Missing from Memory
by mrs.malandro
Summary: A man once said, "If you want peace, then work for justice." I believe in nothing more than the protection of the innocent, and I'll do whatever it takes to save as many as I can. No one can stop me from doing what I feel is right. Not the Alliance. Not Cerberus. Not even him. [Shrios; follows the events of ME2; rating will change to 'M' in later chapters]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned Thane Krios or anything from Mass Effect, things would not have happened the way they did. But I don't, so they happened anyway.

* * *

The audible _crack_ in the air caused Shepard to incline her stance instinctively as a biotically propelled crate flew past where she knelt, narrowly missing her. She met Kasumi's partially concealed gaze a few feet away. The master thief smirked, and with subtle movements honed by years of practice and effort, discreetly tossed a flash bang grenade into the group of Eclipse mercs.

Shepard heard the cries of shock and pain and promptly decided to take advantage of their momentary incapacitation. She breathed in the heavy sulfuric scent as she followed through with her own biotic singularity, the electrical pulses rippling just underneath her skin. The biotically induced feeling of fire and electricity in her blood, coupled with the heavy adrenaline rush that sustained her throughout the long trek across the bridge, made her pleasantly heady.

Jacob's hoots and hollers from somewhere beside her as he blasted at the dangling mercs floating helplessly through the air made Shepard smile. She caught a glimpse of their forms quickly lighting up in flames from the effects of inferno ammo, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Ahead of her, Kasumi was shooting from behind cover at the frenzied asari commando hurling warps right after another at Shepard's group.

'She's panicking. This won't take very long,' she observed casually.

Shepard bolted for the asari, deflecting another attack with her own hastily summoned biotic energy. The asari stumbled back, clearly shaken. Then she regrouped quickly with a singularity orb aimed right for Shepard. She dove toward a crate on the far left of where the commando stood, narrowly missing the singularity as it whizzed just above her rigid form. The concrete floor scraped against her armored knees as she slowly crawled forward, the dense vibrations in the air from the biotic trail fading away.

Straightening up against the crate, Shepard clenched her left fist, her short nails piercing the calloused skin of her palms as she concentrated on charging up for a powerful offensive attack. The electrical energy of a mass effect field pooled deep within her, and she bode her time by firing off clips at the constantly mobile asari. She caught Jacob out of her peripheral vision, a few feet away perched behind a stack of crates, trying unsuccessfully to lift the asari commando off her feet. Near him, Kasumi fished for more flash bangs, only to grasp at empty space. She met the Commander's eyes, and shrugged half-heartedly, just barely inching away from another biotic attack in time.

"Oh, what a great help you are," Shepard mouthed to the thief from her own cover behind the crates. Kasumi only straightened up briefly, and gave the Commander a mocking salute. Then, she disappeared.

Shepard watched from cover as the cloaked form flickered in and out of visibility, like the static from one of those ancient televisions housed in the museums on Earth, the screen struggling to fix on a proper channel. Then, as the old television would finally show an indication of signal, so did a cloaked Kasumi as she manifested inches behind the asari.

Her red and black form lunged forward, whipping the asari around and simultaneously driving an Omni-tool encased fist into her gut, rendering the woman stunned with damaged shields. Shepard felt the force of the attack from where she stood a few feet away, and finally unleashed the warp she had been charging.

This always seemed to happen. In those few moments, time itself seemed to wind down, until she imagined seeing the electricity lick a trail across her skin like finely lined hair. She would watch the blue and purple sparks emanate from her tightly clenched fist, the effects of pure, chaotic power striking against her own form. In that moment, she would always experience the malignant fear that her own power would devour her from the inside out, like a slow burn lapping at her soul. And she would beg to be engulfed.

She supposed the ancient asari masters deigned the technique as 'warp' for a reason. The commando crumpled to the ground, her body aglow with the effects of the attack.

Shepard repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fists, lightly bouncing on padded soles to shake off the clammy feeling that unleashing a full powered warp always left her with. She felt like she just downed a 20-ounce bottle of Tupari.

Exhaling through clattering teeth, she jogged forward, securing the Phalanx back into its holster on her hip. She gave a quick once-over of their surroundings, making sure there weren't any hidden mercs laying in wait behind the crates. Kasumi nudged the prone form on the ground with a lightly armored foot, nodding at Jacob and the Commander as they approached.

"Unhelpful me, huh?" A corner of the thief's intricately decorated lips lifted.

Shepard's gaze, still dotted by stars in the residue of her biotic power, refocused on the hooded woman. She clapped Kasumi's shoulder, returning a haughty smile of her own. "And look who finished her off."

"Yeah, because hiding behind a crate for the whole fight certainly brought her shields down, at least."

Shepard hummed, adjusting the secondary machine pistol strapped to her back. "Don't act like you don't know a thing or two about hiding and generally being cowardly, Miss Thief."

Kasumi only laughed, before attempting to respond with a biting remark of her own when Jacob _tsked_ from behind the two women.

Shepard looked back at the Cerberus operative who was gesturing to the ornate door, raising his eyebrows at Shepard as if she were an undisciplined Alliance trainee instead of his commanding officer.

"We still got that damned assassin to recruit, remember?"

Kasumi cleared her throat immediately, and turned to Jacob. " 'Course, Jacob. By the way, you were pretty great back there." Shepard thought she heard a slight undertone of shyness in Kasumi's voice, and bit down on the inside of her cheek in an effort to hold back a rising snicker. Sometimes, she was real glad that she didn't have to deal with the general awkwardness of trying to impress a potential paramour.

Faint voices sounded from behind the door. A woman's shrill yelling, and heavy footsteps against a hard floor. The steps didn't have a clear pattern, frantic in their movements.

Shepard squared her shoulders, wiped all evidence of amusement from her features, and pushed past Jacob. "Believe me, Operative," Shepard bit out the title with scathing emphasis. "I am very much aware of the mission."

Fussing with Kasumi simply took her mind off of the more pressing issues that loomed in the depths of her mind. Shepard wanted to find the assassin, and get this night over with. Then she could finally trudge back to her cabin on the _Normandy_ and take a scalding hot shower to burn away the muddled emotions she felt when she watched those salarians get gunned down.

Shepard clenched her fists. She could still hear their screams of crippling agony ringing in her ears, as the mech dogs tore through their skin. The twisting knot that curled deep in her stomach when she passed the dozens of crumpled bodies littered along the marble floors. The utter rage she initially aimed at herself for not being there fast enough to help them.

Then she used that rage to wield shockwaves and powerful biotic throws that sent the Eclipse mercs flying sky-high, falling from the top levels of the tower to their very timely deaths. The memory of their pitiful screams reverberated through her skull, cheering her up a bit.

Although she couldn't touch Nassana Dantius, and she had no idea what to expect from the elusive assassin himself, Shepard only hoped there would be more than enough mercs behind that door to compensate. She needed something to throw.

* * *

The shadowed metal walls that enclosed his already narrow surroundings were familiar, even though it was an altogether different setting. Maneuvering through dank air ducts proved to be an unlikely skill of value.

Skirting around in the dark recesses of his mind, memory threatened to overload his awareness with flashing images of time spent on the Citadel those many years ago. His senses were much sharper then.

When no one else would be aware, he would: the light thumping in the ducts above his head, the scratching and cries for food behind the thin walls of the access corridors, their tiny forms huddled against each other in the dank alleys of the Wards. Yes, he would oblige them, in exchange for valuable intel that couldn't be acquired anywhere else.

Sharp voices interrupted his reverie, and he glanced down to observe the scene below. The fading sunset filtered in from the great expanse of the sealed window glass, bathing the room in a hazy auburn glow. He would have thought the setting to be peaceful in an almost surreal way.

Another memory, more recent, intruded upon his awareness. When he had first arrived on Illium those two years ago, he refused the rays of the sun, it's pure luminescence slighting him. Loved ones who drifted in the Oceanic Abyss would never again experience the feeling of the calming heat wash over their skin, so he would abjure from the light on their behalf. He preferred living in the shadows as it was, their cold depths equaling only the darkness residing in his own heart.

So it struck him then, that the sun was seeking him out now, as if wanting to spend these last few moments with him on such a material day. His final mission.

He allowed his mind to drift away on such impetuous musings as he waited for the opportune moment, some part of his awareness still sharply honed on the asari that was only a few feet below him.

Nassana Dantius bellowed orders, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as she paced, but there was a subtle tremor in her voice that only he could detect. The too quick inhalation and shaky exhalation of breath were loud in his ears. The target was in prime position.

They had proved to be a welcome diversion, and to Amonkira was he thankful for the swiftness of his feet, but now was the rightful time for his pursuers to make their grand entrance.

"Do a sweep of the perimeter again," he listened to Nassana say, "and for Goddess sake make sure you-"

The orange indicator on the locked door flashed green just then, and disappeared as the door revolved and lifted open. Through the narrow vents of the duct floor, he peered at the three human intruders that strode in.

The only male, who looked to be all hard intent and cold focus, wore the tell-tale symbol of Cerberus on his uniform. He was tall and had a capable build, and his darker skin tone matched the woman leading the small group. His lips were set in a straight line and he glared holes into the mercs situated on the opposite side of the room. That one seemed to hold more open rancor toward the hired combatants than his companions.

Seemingly hidden by a hood dipped in blood, accented in black, was the petite woman standing a few feet beside the man. She didn't seem as tense as the Cerberus officer; quite the opposite, actually. Her posture indicated boredom, with one gloved hand resting on her hip. However, her fingers brushed lightly against grenade cases. Her oddly painted lips curled into a smirk. Noting the light armor she wore, and along with an easy stance that could fall into a quick offense if necessary, he concluded that the woman must have had a particular skill set in stealth. He respected that fact, and folded it away in the crevasses of his mind.

"Shepard? What the hell are you doing here? And weren't you dead? Look, I don't have any quarrel with you. Don't interfere," Nassana spoke, contempt and confusion ringing clear in her voice.

He watched as the woman called 'Shepard' took a step forward. She ambled along with an unhurried confidence, every step sure and easy. Her closely cropped dark hair curled against her temple, and her light brown eyes gleamed with the desire for a fight. The rich colours of sunset beamed golden rays across the deep brown of her skin.

The assassin could tell even from this distance that she was bound to be a self-assured, fervent creature, with an inclination for brashness. But of course, anyone could discern that fact from the sounds of explosions and gunshots that followed in her wake. He found that her brazen nature didn't completely displease him.

"Remember how we were such good, buddy-old pals, Nassana? Maybe I just missed you," she was speaking now, her voice all smoothness and surety. She still wore that crooked smile, as if she were silently saying 'I know something you don't.'

He watched as Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, casually leaning back. For a woman who seemed ready to fight given the slightest inclination, her demeanor was incredibly calm. His mind began to whir with the calculated attempts to discern her motives, before refocusing on Nassana as the asari sputtered irritably.

"Cut the crap, Shepard. You seem to be having fun with all this, executing my sister and now hatching some scheme to kill me as well." Nassana clenched her fists, glaring accusingly at the woman called Shepard. "Actually, I don't care what you want or why you even came for me; but I will not allow myself to be cut down, especially by a sordid rogue like you."

Shepard winced mockingly, holding up her empty palms in a symbol of submission. "Ouch, Nassana. That one _really_ hurt my feelings," then the timbers of her voice dropped an octave, and she spoke with menacing conviction. "But, as much as I would like to wring your neck with my bare hands, that is not why I'm here."

Movement from his peripheral caught his attention, and he looked away from the two women. Nassana's guards had loosened the grip on their weapons at the proclamation of Shepard's supposed intentions.

However, despite voicing words that claimed a momentary peace, she kept her left hand hidden behind her back, and he could make out the faint blue glow of charging biotics. Her companions made no move to act.

Watching from above, the scene again played like he was in a surreal reality. The golden cast of the room only enhanced the dreamlike effect he felt. This was to be his final job.

As well as his final resting place.

But this woman, this Shepard, went out of her way to make sure that he didn't indulge the desire. What was her reasoning? Was she simply a rival assassin sent to punish him for an act committed in the dismal memories of his past?

He peered at her through the vent, observing the way her body shifted into a subtle offensive stance, the blue tell-tale of biotic power clutched in the fist that was hidden from Nassana's sight. The halo of red and orange light cast by the sunset bathed her in golden hues, and reflected against her coal black hair.

So be it. He could not decipher her motivations, but he would indulge her nonetheless.

Shifting his body weight to allow for easier maneuvering, the assassin carefully lifted the vent and silently placed it aside. He adjusted his crouching position, deliberately making the minimum amount of noise possible. He wanted to be heard.

Shepard's eyes flitted upward at the faint sound of his movement, now aware of his presence. The mercs heard the sound as well, two of them peering curiously at the ceiling and trading glances.

She quickly dropped her gaze, as to not give him away, and hesitated. Her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, as she worried the flesh between her teeth. Considering, debating. About what, he still could not tell.

Then, the blue glow disappeared, and she again fell into a casual stance. It seemed as if she were resigning herself to whatever he had planned.

Good choice, as he preferred her not to get in the way. The instant acceptance of unknown camaraderie unnerved him, however.

"And as much as I would like to gun down those incompetent mercs of yours, I'll hold off on that, too," Shepard finally spoke, the confidence in her voice not once betraying the indication of stress he saw a moment earlier.

The clacking of booted heels against the marble floor sounded as Nassana paced forward. An irritated huff escaped her cobalt lips.

"Then why did you just barrel through my towers, killing every mercenary you see? What the hell are you here for? Credits?" her tone was clipped and agitated. It was evident Nassana was losing her hold. "Is it payment you want? If that's the case, then we can put this all behind us, Shepard."

Shepard shook her head balefully, her lips forming a hard, bitter smile. "Money won't solve this, Nassana. What you did to those workers sealed your fate, as far as I'm concerned. Why'd you do it, huh?" she then waved a dismissive hand. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you and the scum you call mercenaries will be dead in the ground in only a few moments."

That was his cue.

Nassana's face morphed into a visage of sheer indignation, while the mercs behind her lifted their heads to locate the source of another, louder thump. "Is _that _what you're worried about? Shepard, you of all people should know the value of sacrifice and-"

"Nassana, we heard something," the asari mercenary alerted, pointing her rifle at the ceiling.

Nassana massaged her temple with well-manicured fingers. "Dammit, I don't have time for this. Search the perimeter. I'll take care of this once-"

The certain, guttural sound that emerged after a neck snap startled Nassana into silence. She didn't have time to react before two more bodies hit the polished floor, the assassin moving in elegant, understated motions to cut down the next merc. Once awareness of what was occurring settled in, the asari mercenary attempted to defend herself, but quickly received a shot through the heart instead.

Nassana barely uttered a surprised cry when the assassin pressed her prone form against his body. In that moment, the seconds seemed to slow down, as if time itself were releasing its vice-like grip on reality to observe the scene. Golden light from the fading sunset entwined the two forms in a secure clasp. It was almost intimate, the embrace in which he held her. If the circumstances were different, one could assume he was giving a lover his final good-bye.

But he was an assassin, and his target was finally in his clutches.

With his pistol jabbed into the fleshy part of her stomach, he pulled the trigger.

Her cerulean head lolled delicately across his shoulder as he settled her body on the desk. He curled emerald fingers over her lifeless, azure digits, resting one cold hand over the other. Taking a small step back, he gazed at her form, the symbol of completion for yet another contract. The assassin bowed his head, and blocked out all outside intrusions, focusing only on the obsidian depths in his mind's eye.

He prayed to the Goddess Kalahira, for forgiveness and protection of the soul encased out of body.

He prayed for peace and tranquility in the swirling Remoteness of the Ocean.

He prayed for the reunification of loved ones in the Expanse of the Afterlife.

"Thane Krios, right? I went through hell to get up here, so I'm not in a particularly good mood to be ignored right now."

His reverie was pertly interrupted. Thane lifted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the still body of Nassana Dantius. "It typically isn't in good form to interrupt the prayers of a soul long forsaken."

A brief silence. He listened to the murmuring of the hooded woman behind Shepard, "Of course, I knew he was there. Nice polish. Though I prefer to just get the job done and go home." The man in Cerberus colours shushed her.

Shepard crossed her arms, a crinkle appearing between her full eyebrows. "What for? Nassana didn't deserve salvation. I should have gotten rid of her when I had the chance," she shook her head then, her heated gaze wavering. "And you saw what she did to her own workers."

He met her eyes then, watching as she tried to regain her shaken clout. And although she tried to hide it, he noticed the way her lips tightened and how her previously casual stance straightened almost imperceptibly.

"Not for her. For me."

Thane ambled forward, each step deliberate and controlled as he spoke. The guns of Shepard's companions were steadily trained on him, tracking his movements. The heat of the fading Illium sun settled upon his form, and he welcomed the warmth, for it meant the banishment of coldness.

"The judgment of a man cannot be based on his decisions alone," he declared. "You, for instance, are the sole cause of much carnage and death, and for what purpose... I wonder?" His voice was low and measured, as if he were also speaking on the behalf of his own character.

"So were the mercs; that's why they needed to be put in the ground. That was my purpose," Shepard responded, the corners of her lips down-turned into a scowl.

Her companion, the male, had nodded his agreement at her retort. It did not escape Thane's notice that the Cerberus officer glared at him in the same way that he glared at the mercs. Nor did the assassin disregard the pistol that was staunchly aimed towards his chest.

In response, Thane strode forward, not sparing Shepard a second glance as he pushed past her. He heard the sound, a slight indication of annoyance as she turned to see where he was headed. His mind made a small note of how she clearly was not used to being overlooked in such a manner. His steps brought him directly in front of the man's gun, his bare chest a hairbreadth away, as if silently challenging him to shoot.

"You wanted me. Well-here I am."

The Cerberus officer tightened his grip on the trigger, his features contorting in contempt.

"Jacob," came the low warning from behind Thane.

The man called Jacob stood his ground for a moment longer, glaring venomously at the assassin, before loosening his grip. "Recruit him so we could get this over with already." Luckily, Jacob noticed the way Shepard's eyes widened in disbelief at what sounded like a demand, and her mouth opened to give a scathing retort. "Uh, with respect, Commander," he quickly amended.

Receiving the knowledge of her title wasn't a surprise at all, and Thane turned on his heel. Once his back was turned, the Commander shot Jacob a look that practically said 'We will talk about your continuous practice of insubordination later.'

She sighed then. "Let's get to the reason of why I'm here. You've heard of the Collectors, haven't you? I'm going to blow their base up."

He glanced at her, clear surprise etched into the lines of his face before he could hide it. "If I may be so bold as to ask," he let a small amount of mockery trickle into his tone, "what is your reasoning?"

"They're abducting entire human colonies. I'm assembling a team, and we're going to go exterminate the damn bugs."

If he didn't already know the dismality of the situation, the conviction with which she spoke could have convinced him that it would really be that simple.

"The Collector base is located in the Omega 4 Relay. No ship has ever been recorded for return."

"So they say. I'm used to people telling me I can't do something because of some hackneyed excuse of impossibility," she _tsked_ then, waving a hand dismissively. The crooked smile returned, and she fixed him with a determined stare.

"You know what happens then? I prove them wrong, because that's what I do. The Collectors will not be taking any more humans, because I _will_ stop them. And for that to happen, I need your help. So what do you say, Mr. Assassin?"

Even though it was voiced as a question, he doubted she would really give him much choice in the matter.

He allowed a small sound of amusement to escape from his lips, the human's proclamation of bravery charming him. Or was it simply stupidity? It had been a very long time in which he met another who had acted the same way, with such vigor and determination, as if the entire universe were to succumb to her wills if she so demanded it.

"I expected nothing less from the reputable Commander Shepard, who even beat the impossibility of coming back from the dead."

Her smirk slipped into a soft half smile, and he thought he detected a hint of modesty behind it. Odd, for such an impetuous person.

"This was to be my last job." His slender fingers slid along the length of Nassana's desk as he spoke, barely touching the holographic interface and sharp edges of the cold, metallic surface. "If you hadn't arrived, Nassana's guards would have surely attempted to slay me. I cannot say that I would have put up much of a defense."

Shepard exhaled through her nose. "You wanted to die. Why?"

"Purpose. Purpose, and the will to execute that intent," he stopped in front of her, not meeting her gaze as he flexed the ductile webbing between his middle fingers. He watched the lime green tissue turn white as the edges stretched farther than what was normal.

"I have neither. Kalahira shall whisk me away peacefully, and I will be all the more grateful."

That rendered the Commander silent, and she looked away, her mind clearly working to discern his phrasing. When she looked up, they locked eyes. Twilight reflected in his obsidian orbs, cold and empty.

"I'm dying," he murmured.

The surprise she wore was plain across her features as she shook her head. She retreated back, her fist balled on her hip, while muttering something low and nearly incoherent. Thane only caught bits and pieces of her hurried rambling: "-recruit a guy who is already dead," and "-at's the point?"

He wasn't insulted; her outburst made him weary, however. Expecting tact with the people he encountered in this line of work was naïve. The male, Jacob, only seemed to glare with more malcontent at the assassin the longer they stood around.

"It will not affect my work on this mission. And I am not contagious," he said.

Shepard glanced at him, her cheeks darkening as evidence of her embarrassment at being heard. "I'm...sorry. How-how long do you have?"

His eyes lingered longer than necessary on the subtle change in her skin tone. The involuntary physical reactions of another species always fascinated him, his mind drawing comparisons on how his own form would react in a similar circumstance. In place of blood rushing to the face, the protruding ridges lining his outer cheek would bristle.

He bowed his head, mentally shaking away the detracting thoughts. "May we discuss this once aboard your ship?"

"Uh, sure. I mean...yes. So..." she took a step toward him, attempting to melt back into the hard, confident exterior she carried out of necessity. "You're officially recruited?"

Thane turned his gaze toward the sunset, letting the heat wash over his face. It was truly a beautiful sight; he had never allowed himself to appreciate the sunset. Nos Astra's towering skyscrapers threatened to hide the blazing inferno, but it contained too much vitality to allow itself concealment. He deliberately stared into the harsh rays of light, searing in its luminosity. The sparks of luster danced across his vision, hastening its pace to make a quick departure for nightfall. He gazed at the sun until his pupils began to tingle, and his primary set of lids shut instinctively against the burning fire. Vibrant patterns, the effect of prolonged sun gazing, swirled in the darkness of his closed eyes.

"If you're trying to blind yourself to get out of doing this mission, it's not going to work that easily. You'll still be fighting Collectors, just with a cane and a guide dog."

Thane's lips lifted in a smile, and he finally peeled open his primary lids to find her standing within arm's reach, staring at him curiously and with a little concern. The dotted patterns now circled over her face, and he blinked their multi-colored effects away. At this proximity, he could clearly see the jagged scars set into her skin, each edge curving into another that begat a story of chaos across her face. Even the skin which was not scarred seemed rough.

She didn't flinch at his close inspection. She was not ashamed, wearing her scars proudly as a testament to her storied rebirth. Against such confidence, the harshness of her wounds seemed to fade, and the vibrancy of her eyes regained prominence. Thane hummed faintly.

"There were many deaths of the innocent wrought today. I could not save them all." At this statement, he absently noted how her shoulders drooped a bit, her brows pinching in a frown as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She was angry. The discovery of a shared abhorrence for the loss of innocent life encouraged him to continue. "I have done more than my fair share of contribution of darkness to this space. I am grateful for your offer, as it may signify a chance to bring light to the universe again.

"A suicide mission will do nicely, Commander."

Though he wasn't going to reveal to her that he didn't know what a 'guide dog' was.

* * *

- Many thanks goes out to my wonderful betas SilverShards, TrappedInWonderland, Melismo, CassiusBrutus, and Carleen for helping me fix up the horrible travesty that was the First Draft. I like getting critiques from five different perspectives because I'm some kind of sick masochist apparently. Anyway, this is going to be a long term thing, so feel free to kick back and enjoy this ride with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own Thane Krios, but if I did... well, a girl can dream.

This chapter was an exercise in my will power, but I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

Shepard exhaled heavily between clenched teeth. Her shoulders drooped, one hand covering the side of her face in exasperation. The impatient drumming of her fingernails against the table surface reverberated throughout the compact room, unnaturally loud in the thick silence. The tension in the air made her agitated, and the only thing she wanted was to slink back to her quarters for long awaited refuge.

Even elcor theatre wasn't nearly as taxing as this.

She looked up, the sterile white walls of the comm room an affront to her eyes. She glanced to her right, where Jacob stood. His arms were stiff across his chest, fists clenched tight, and his lips were set in a tense, straight line. She could practically feel the waves of condemnation rolling off of his body.

The target for his disapproval stood just a few feet away across the conference table. The drell's stance was languid and calm, as if he couldn't feel the effects of Jacob's stare shooting holes into his form. Thane met the Cerberus operative's glare head on, showing not a hint of reaction.

Her tapping against the table surface quickened its pace.

Resting in the top five on the list of things Shepard couldn't be bothered to figure out, were most men. Specifically, the tendency to draw situations out by refusing to communicate like a functional sentient being. If everyone had her impulses, a situation like this could easily be solved with only a few short, honest words, and then the two parties could go on their lively way. Perhaps with only a mild feeling of resentment toward the other, at the least.

But this she couldn't stand. The tension of unspoken words, spiteful in nature, and glares that carried levels of resentment. This was how grudges began, and then nurtured as each party would trade condescending remarks only in passing. It was all an ego measuring contest.

She blamed Jacob.

Jacob cleared his throat, his steely gaze unrelenting. "I'll be completely honest, Krios. I don't want you on this ship, but I'm only allowing it because it's ultimately the Commander's decision. But do anything to stab us in the back, and I won't hesitate to compress you with the garbage and toss you out the airlock," he paused, laying his hands flats against the table surface. "Are we clear."

Shepard made a face at Jacob's use of the word 'allow,' but bit down on indignant words that weren't suited for the sharp atmosphere of the comm room. Across from her, Thane folded his hands neatly behind his back, his form straightening. The bright, steady beam of the overhead light source illuminated the vibrant patterns decorating his crown. He looked between the two, his expression placid.

"There is no need for concern. I will operate under Shepard's directive for this mission," he nodded in acknowledgment of her.

Jacob shook his head, muttering under his breath. The bright gleam of the table plaster contrasted heavily with his dark skin. Shepard faced him, trying to catch his eye. "You mentioned earlier that you _acknowledge_ my decision. Learn to accept it, Jacob."

"I'm sorry I don't feel as comfortable with a trained killer lodged on deck, Commander."

Thane, who previously stood rigid, inclined his head toward Jacob. "There is not a contract on board this ship that needs fulfilling, so again, there is no reason for worry. My body is only the means for higher powers responsible. I will not act without accordance. Unless," he fully faced Jacob then, and Shepard could have swore that she saw a small smile teaming with gall flit across his lips. She could sense a hint of mild provocation in his demeanor. "...those actions need to be taken."

Shepard blinked, surprised by the subtle change in his manner. Thane met her eyes, and she could see the goading sparks dancing in those black depths. And although he hid it well, she could see the signs of amusement attempting to tug the corners of his lips upward. He was challenging Jacob.

She had difficulty holding back the smile that threatened to give away the newfound amusement she shared with the drell, and she dipped her head to ignore his wry gaze. From the other side of the table, Jacob clucked his tongue, and she looked up to see him giving her an accusatory stare as he tapped his foot.

"What?" she said, shrugging. Before Jacob could respond, the glowing holographic sphere that symbolized EDI's interface emerged from the terminal located near Thane. The feminine affliction of the AI's voice spoke, ringing clear across the room.

"Welcome aboard the _Normandy SR-_2, Thane Krios. My processes ran through a catalogue of living conditions as related to the drell species, and I recommend the life support room located on Deck 3 as a suitable space," it intoned, its interface blinking repeatedly as indicator of communication.

As Thane thanked the AI for its assistance, Jacob turned to Shepard. He gave her an pointed glance, as if silently asking if she was sure of her decision to bring an assassin aboard the _Normandy_. Shepard merely narrowed her eyes, annoyed at her command being questioned yet again in the midst of recruitment debriefs. She pulled his ass out of the fire too many times for him to doubt her decision making skills now.

She ignored Jacob's questioning gaze, and turned to watch as Thane's form dipped into a low bow. So surprised was she at being presented with such an old fashioned show of respect, that the only thing Shepard could do was give a twitchy nod in return. She thought she saw the corners of his lips lift in a subtle smile, but he turned away before she could further analyze his features. Instead, she found her attention fixated onto his hands as they hung limply by his sides.

She recalled shaking his hand when he had agreed to join her mission just hours before. His webbed fingers against hers produced an oddly cooling sensation. She was surprised by the texture of his palm, expecting his skin to feel prickly and rough like most reptilians inhabited on Earth. The scaled flesh felt tough, but still retained a smooth quality. His grip was distinctly firm, controlled. She supposed his handshake reflected his movements in Nassana Dantius' headquarters: subdued, but teaming with hidden precision.

She also remembered watching him leap down from the vents in Nassana's HQ, silently landing on the pads of his feet with an agile elegance that could only be honed through decades of training. He had advanced through the small space with coordinated motions that only a skilled dancer could replicate.

She remembered the way those hands had moved, with such graceful precision as he disposed of Nassana's guards. There wasn't a single twitch or tremor as he cleanly snapped their necks, and put pressure on the trigger of his pistol, firing off clips that tore into their bodies. His hands moved with a cold elegance.

His hands unnerved her.

Shepard looked up when she heard the beeping sound of the comm room door, signaling Thane's exit. Jacob inhaled through his nose, his posture loosening.

"He was quite civil," said the AI as its interface departed through the terminal with a blink. The air hung heavy no longer, but there was still a lingering silence that ringed through the small room. Shepard rubbed at a smudge on the table surface, circling the blemish with the pad of her finger. She glanced at Jacob, watching him crane his neck from side to side as he worked the kinks out.

"Speak freely, Operative. You weren't this agitated when Zaeed joined up. And he's a merc," Shepard said, absently making the smudge grow larger.

Jacob made a face, rapping his knuckles against the sealed wood of the conference table. "I wasn't here then, when he was brought on board. And I still don't have a favorable opinion of him now."

Shepard pushed off from the table edge, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to fully face him. "So just tell me what the problem is. I can't let tension between squad mates interfere with the mission. You of all people should know this."

"And I do, Commander. My personal feelings will never jeopardize this mission," he said. His head bowed then, and he refused to look at her. "I just had bad experiences with the hired fighter types in my days as a Corsair.

"All I'm saying, Shepard, is just watch your back around that assassin. Sure, he may have saved those salarians in the Dantius building, but that will never excuse any of his past actions." Jacob looked up at her, his expression hardening as he spoke. "I just don't buy it. That old 'assassin with a heart of gold' trope is played out enough in the vids."

But the deep tenor of Jacob's voice faded as Shepard tuned him out. The strict brightness of the room seemed to dim as she remembered, her eyes narrowing into slits. When he brought up the salarians, her mind had reverted back to images of their time spent in the Dantius building. She couldn't help thinking of those who could not be saved in time, their tattered bodies dotting the floors of the building. Her gut clenched as a sick feeling of penance threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Their deaths plagued her. Their faces danced in the shadows of her mind, a continuous reminder of what she failed to accomplish as a Commander, as a Defender, and as a Protector. Even in all her years of military training, reckless loss of life was never something that was easy to get over.

Especially when it could have been avoided.

"Commander?" Jacob was speaking to her. She glanced up to find him near the door, looking at her over his shoulder. A mild hint of confusion shown in his expression.

"Dismissed, Operative. Just remember to lighten up on the insubordination every now and then," she teased half-heartedly.

A smile flitted across his full lips, and was gone just as quickly when he saluted her before turning away. Shepard splayed her palms atop the surface of the conference table, exhaling heavily as she listened to the beep of the comm room door signaling Jacob's exit. She slid her fingers across the wooden table top, absently surveying the blending of her skin tone with the colour of the dark artificial oak. The tenseness twisting in her gut was an indicator of building anger.

Anger primed mostly at herself, as her mind repeatedly flashed through images of the Dantius HQ.

With balled fists, she pushed off from the table and made for the door. She cut through the lab area where Mordin was located, currently surveying a new specimen in the lab containment cell. Mordin looked up from his work, raising a sharp eyebrow ridge as she bristly walked past.

"Ah, Shepard. Good that you are here," he said, his blinks matching the rhythm of his speech. "Made the necessary medical precaution guidelines for newest recruit. Dr. Chakwas and I arranged mutual notes on the matter. Deals with illness. Will be well for the duration of our mission."

Shepard murmured a slight 'hm' in acknowledgment as she neared the door leading to the CIC.

"Also, Shepard." He called, causing her to stop at the door momentarily to hear him out. "Dr. Chakwas _is_ a sufficient medical specialist. However, offer for being primary doctor to the crew still stands."

This drew a small smile from Shepard. While Mordin was extremely adept in his medical calculations, sometimes the Professor could be a bit... presumptuous when dealing with crew personnel. For the sake of sparing awkward interaction across the deck, she deferred to Chakwas. And speaking of, she had her own appointment with the Doctor soon.

The door to the CIC opened, and the holographic galaxy map greeted Shepard as she entered. A few crew members chatted idly near the structure containing the map, while others hurried along the deck in a rush to get their assignments done. The relative brightness of this space compared to the original _Normandy_ was something she always made note of, along with all of the other numerous differences. Yeoman Chambers was one of them.

"Ah, Commander! You've received a new message from your private terminal. Also, Miranda requested a meeting with you for discussing new updates on the whereabouts of the Justicar. And I also wanted to speak with you abo-"

"Not right now, Chambers. Comm Miranda and tell her that she can wait, too. I'll be down on Deck 5. No interruptions," Shepard told her pointedly, while making a bee-line for the elevator as crew members bustled past her, focused on their own duties.

Shepard backed into the space of the narrow elevator, selecting her destination on the holographic interface lining the wall. She watched as the doors slid shut, blocking out the visage of the Yeoman making a disgruntled face. She sighed, lifting her gaze to the lit ceiling as she listened to the steady hum of the descending elevator.

Just being out on the CIC with a full staff made her tense. She much preferred being alone in her own quarters, or working off stress by beating the air out of the punching bag down on Deck 5. The commending whispers from crew members as she passed by never ceased to make her uncomfortable. Their wide-eyed stares, and the vigorous salutes when she made eye contact with them wasn't something that she was used to quite yet.

In the Alliance, she would be gawked at, but not with a particular admiration. The tale of Torfan followed at her heels wherever she went, climbing the ranks with her. She remembered the nickname: 'The Butcher of Torfan,' as it was. She tread alone down Alliance hallways, her peers trying their best not to bump into her as they edged past.

Brutal, ruthless, cold. They whispered other names that should never have been uttered under military provision. Shepard faced the taunts with a stone mask, not once letting her peers recognize the anger she wielded against herself. She got the job done, and many innocent lives were saved as a result. But at the end of the day, her whole squad perished.

Destroying that slaver base was in retaliation to the batarian attack on Elysium. The pirates' attempt ultimately failed, and the Alliance ordered a takedown operation on Torfan two years later. Shepard was eager to prove herself back then; women joining the Systems Alliance was all but commonplace, and her credentials needed to stand out amongst the crowd. And the assault on Torfan served as the prime position for her to exercise her true value.

Not to mention, the batarian slavers operating there were also estimated to be the same unit that wiped out Mindoir. It was simply the cherry on top of an already bloody cake. 'Highly satisfied' didn't come close to expressing how she felt when she watched their bases burn to the ground.

Shepard closed her eyes, her brows knitting together in a frown. Her nails dug into the padded flesh of her palms as she recalled the contrasting emotions she felt during those days.

Was the satisfaction really the destruction of an entire squad unit? To this day, Shepard couldn't discern if it was her determination to complete the mission at all costs that drove her to sacrifice the squad; or if she just wanted her own personal revenge for what happened on Mindoir.

She thought back to the incident often, and she wasn't entirely certain that she did everything in her power to find an adequate solution that would have resulted in a surviving crew.

She wasn't certain that it was her own hunger for retaliation that clouded her mind during that time.

She shook her head, biting her lip to prevent a curse from escaping. The elevator's descent shuddered to a stop, and the doors slid open to reveal the wide expanse of the _Normandy_ shuttle bay. The curved, grey walls of the _Normandy's_ inner shell enclosed the space. In a small corner located on the far side of the deck, and behind the numerous radiators, stood a worn punching bag along with boxing equipment.

Shepard quickly crossed the distance, absently running her fingers along the metal surface of individual radiators as she passed. Once she got to her practice area, she rummaged through a bag that was set aside from the rest of the equipment. She retrieved the separate ankle and glove weights, humming under her breath as she lightly pushed against the punching bag to check for resistance.

Satisfied, Shepard removed the top of her Cerberus uniform, leaving on the ragged white T-shirt that rested underneath. She ran a hand through her short hair, imagining that she still had the longer hair from years ago, which would be sloppily tied up for these work out sessions.

As she began warming up, she thought back to the admiration filled faces of her current crew. The esteem they held for her was worn brightly and unabashedly in their eyes. They would step out of her way when she walked by, but not out of any distaste. They revered her.

No longer was she known solely as the Survivor of Mindoir, or the Butcher of Torfan. No, now she had two new titles: Hero of the Citadel and Survivor of Death Itself.

She fastened the weights around her ankle, and began fussing with the clasp for the gloves.

She was no longer Selina Shepard. She was no longer the young soldier who had uttered an oath to protect as many lives as she could after what happened on Mindoir. The soldier who only happened to fight a few Geth and destroy a Reaper along the way.

No, now she was a symbol. The great Commander Shepard who represents the line between victory or total destruction. Hell, just to be in her presence was supposed to be a great honour.

She bounced lightly on the pads of her feet, eyeing the punching bag before shooting out with a right cross. The connection of her fist against the bag resounded with a clear _thud._

Some hero she was, when she couldn't even save her own squad on Torfan. When she _wouldn't _save them. No, she was too focused on cutting down the slavers, even those who had surrendered to her.

Her feet shuffled in quick succession as she switched her position, glaring holes into the bag as memories of the mission that occurred hours earlier returned unbidden. She recalled the team making their way to the top level of the Dantius building, freeing the workers from their temporary holds. One of the salarians touched her shoulder. He thanked her profusely for releasing them, and even went so far as to call her a hero for clearing out the mercs on the lower levels.

She recalled seeing the numerous bodies of his peers.

Some _hero_ she was, when she couldn't even save civilian workers from their own boss. When she could have prevented the whole situation from happening in the first place.

Shepard inhaled short breaths as she paced her shots, sending another jab at the bag. The weight she put behind the punch sent the bag flying back.

Two years ago, she could have gotten rid of Nassana. Right then and there, she could have capped the asari with one of those old heat projectiles in that dull Citadel bar, and none of this would have happened. Well, obviously she couldn't have done it in public, but she still had it in her power to prevent the mass loss of life that occurred earlier.

The force behind her punches became stronger, while her precision decreased. She unleashed a right hook to the punching bag, before rounding out with a side kick. The short grunts and growls that tore from her lips were loud in her ears as she assaulted the bag, no longer aware of the weights shackling her hands and ankles.

She had taken the damn credit chit, and let Nassana go. And that asari had the gall to offer her more credits when they met again. And why not? It worked the first time around.

This crew, and even Cerberus itself, had no right to pretend that Shepard was some righteous figure, when she wasn't even above taking bribes from sleazy criminals. Or sacrificing a whole squad to get her selfish revenge. She didn't deserve their reverence, not when the bloods of innocents was still stained into the palms of her hands.

Her oath was long broken. Some hero, some protector she was.

Shepard landed one last punch, and the bag itself seemed to flee from her on chained hooks. Her chest was heaving from the exertion, and she watched the punching bag lose its momentum and begin drifting toward her in slow back and forth motions. She caught the bag under her elbow, halting its momentum as she laid her head against the padded tissue. Her hair mussed with the sweat sliding down her face, and the rough texture of the punching bag was oddly soothing against her skin. She closed her eyes.

Every preventable loss of life was a rising tally in the back of her mind. She had failed all of them. And what if... what if she failed this mission, too?

This was more than just a simple mission; her current objectives held as much, or even greater weight than hunting down Saren and his geth. She was recruiting the best team the galaxy had ever known or even seen. Mercenaries, biotics, tech specialists... assassins... if you could name them, they were on her ship and prepared to lay down their lives for a mission that had a near non-existent probability of success. When she recruited them, they hardly batted an eye when they realized who she was. The famous, or infamous, Commander Shepard.

They were willing to put their lives in her hands and were trusting that she would lead them through this without fail-suicide mission or not. But they didn't know about her old squad. This time... maybe karma would catch up to her.

Maybe this time, she would be in the ground _with_ her crew.

A feeling of doubt shivered across her skin like spiders' feet. She tried to push the emotion away, her nails cutting into the rough texture of the punching bag. Her fists clenched and unclenched as the feeling permeated her mind.

What if she couldn't do this?

The thought alone railed against her being. She had to shove it away. Shepard wished that the emotions of uncertainty were in a tangible form, so she could just beat them into submission like her punching bag.

Doubting her own drive was simply improbable; too many were counting on her. This was so much more than anything she had ever set out to do, and after her past... she couldn't afford to fail.

In retrospect, hunting down Saren and his geth army seemed so much simpler compared to this. She had the Alliance at her heels, and her superiors figured that every problem would stop with Saren's annihilation. She knew better. Udina, the Council, Alliance Command-the only one who truly believed in the Reaper threat was Anderson, that's why she recommended him for the human Counselor position. Yet it still didn't seem to make much of a difference in the long run.

Still, there had seemed to be some semblance of peace during the weeks after Saren's defeat. At least until she died.

Shepard clutched the punching bag tighter, her eyes closed so tight that her lids trembled. The crewmen that she couldn't save during those foreboding moments did not have the fortune-or curse?- of being resurrected. Yet another reminder of her powerlessness, in the grand scheme of things. And this new crew would still follow her willingly, completely unabashed in their support of a failing Commander.

Honestly, who was she, when a goddamn assassin could save more lives than she could?

Her Omni-tool beeped suddenly, and her attention was torn away from the solemn musings. "I thought I told her not to interrupt," Shepard muttered as she activated the device and peered at the holographic interface. She had gotten a ping from the schedule app that was installed.

"Crap. Chakwas."

* * *

- Big thank you to my betas SilverShards, Melismo, TrappedInWonderland, CassiusBrutas, and Carleen.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own Thane Krios

**Update: I decided to cut the original chapter 2 in half because it was just too long and it was bugging me. To old readers, this is the second half of chapter two. New readers don't need to worry about it because this will still be chapter 3 regardless. **

Alright, moving along.

* * *

Shepard adjusted the top of her uniform as the elevator doors opened, stepping out into the spacious hall of the crew deck. From behind the elevator, she heard various cheers of victory coupled with boos of disappointment.

Forgot it was poker night, she thought, smiling a little. Her workout, combined with the pleasant atmosphere that the crew deck always seemed to carry, went a long way in lightening her somber mood.

Before she could step into the mess hall and see the turn of the game however, her gaze fell upon the door to the life support room.

The Normandy's newest recruit, Thane Krios. There were many things she wanted to ask him: how was he settling in so far, did he appreciate the truly grand view of the ship's drive core, how exactly did he manage to maneuver through the vents in the Dantius buildings, how much time did he have left to live? What was his favourite colour?

She supposed springing such a rapid fire of questions wouldn't do well for a ship welcoming.

Tutting, Shepard stepped away from the elevator opening, rounding the corner to nearly run into a ruffled crew member.

"Ah! Commander, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking," the crew member said, lifting her arm in a hasty salute.

Shepard lips twinged, and she reached out to give an awkward pat to the woman's shoulder. "At ease, Goldstein."

Crewman Goldstein glanced at the hand which tapped her shoulder, before gaping at the Commander. "You know me? Well, I mean I-I didn't know if Officer Lawson gave you the crew files or not, and you're always so busy with the Collectors and all, so I didn't think our Commander would-well.."

Shepard scratched a pretend itch on her nose, looking away from Crewman Goldstein. "You rag on the Chef's cooking with Crewman Hawthorne."

"O-oh! We'll stop immediately. I'll let Hawthorne know that he needs to shape up when the Commander's around," she said conspiratorially, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the mess hall.

"It's pretty funny, actually."

Shepard dug her heel against the padded floor, fidgeting with her hands clasped behind her back as Crewman Goldstein stared on in surprised silence. A defeated groan sounded from the mess hall where the poker game continued. "I should go," Shepard said, and quickly stepped away from the crew member before seeing her reaction.

Shepard exhaled heavily upon entering the large space of the mess hall. Spread across the wide table in the center of the room was the poker game currently being waged between Garrus, Zaeed, Crewmen Hawthorne and Donnelly. There were glasses of various alcoholic drinks scattered along the polished table surface.

"Shepard!" cried a boisterous Donnelly. "It's aboot time you came up from your bothy down in tha hangar." He raised a glass to her, his words were slightly slurred, obscuring his heavy Scottish accent.

"Donnelly! You can't just accuse the Commander of hiding," Crewman Hawthorne muttered grudgingly, poking his gaming opponent in the ribs.

Amid a loud 'ow!' and further bickering between the two, Zaeed and Garrus continued the game. Zaeed simply shook his head in reference to the crewmen, acknowledging Shepard with only a nod. Garrus looked up at her with amusement dancing in his sharp blue eyes, the turian taking a swig of his ale.

"Just in time, Shepard. I have this one in the bag, as your species may say."

Zaeed took a long drag from the cigarette hanging haphazardly from his lips, before responding. "Don't get so cocky, turian. You never know. You may be in for a hell of a surprise."

The deep vibrato of Garrus' chuckling resonated across the dense walls of the hall. "Will it be like the surprise your Blue Sun brethren received when their entire force was decimated on Omega? By one beguiling sniper who happened to go by the moniker of 'Archangel?'"

Zaeed shifted in his seat, before turning his card hand over. Donnelly and Hawthorne followed suit, the former proceeding to make obscene hand gestures and swearing in a thick Scottish accent as he looked over Zaeed's deck.

"Four of a kind," Shepard muttered approvingly, making an impressed hum in recognition of Zaeed's card rank.

The mercenary leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he took another drag of his cigarette. "Mm. Only equal to the surprise those C-Sec schmucks must have experienced-when one mercenary with a rickety old assault rifle blasted through their frontlines in the Barrage on Tayseri Ward," he spoke, nodding in Garrus' direction. Shepard, Donnelly, and Hawthorne simultaneously looked to Garrus, as the turian did not turn his cards over yet.

Shepard felt a tap at her shoulder, and absently shooed whoever it was away so that she could see what Garrus had in store for the gameplayers. The tap became a soft jab, and she grunted in annoyance, turning to meet the cranky eyes of the Normandy's resident Chef. The skin near his eyes crinkled as he glanced at the poker game, before turning his attention back to her. He pushed an energy drink in her direction. She took one look at the label and cringed. Bio-tank.

"You always forget to drink this after a mission. Gotta keep that biotic metabolism in check, Commander," Chef said, alternating his feet as he spoke. "And I'm telling you, this is the good stuff. Nothing like that rotten Tupari shit you like to drink so much. It'll kill ya one day."

His expression suddenly turned sheepish, and he gave her an apologetic look. "Well, for the second time, at least."

She crossed her arms over her chest, smirking. "Is that so. Speaking of—you heard one of their slogans? The one that goes 'Tupari brings you back from the grave,' or something like that. I think it fits me," Shepard said. The Chef clucked his tongue, before raising his hand in a wave as he walked back to the cooking quarters. She popped open the can and turned her attention back to the game, just as a commotion of disappointed jeers and shouts erupted from the poker table.

Shepard met Garrus' eyes, and he gave her a barely noticeable wink as he leaned back in his seat.

"He didnae! Eh, y'see that, jammy bastard made a royal floosh!" Donnelly roared, his voice rising and falling in pitch as he rocketed up from his seat and clapped Crewman Hawthorne hard on the back. He attempted to repeat the same gesture on Garrus, but apparently thought better of it when he received a glare in warning.

Shepard watched, amused, as Zaeed stuffed his cigarette butt into the old ashtray resting near his elbow. "Not bad, turian. We'll see how long your luck holds out when we're on the field and I'm in the squad."

Garrus collected his winnings and stood up, working out the kinks in his neck as he stretched muscles that were tense from sitting for too long. "Hopefully it'll last longer than yours just did, merc," he countered, smirking. He turned to Shepard. "Well, now that I have my winnings for the evening, I'll be in the... well, I guess you know where I'll be if you need me, Shepard."

He gave her a knowing smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Shepard knew exactly where-he would be in the engine room, calibrating the weapon system for the nth time. "Do me a favor though, will you? Go easy on yourself..." he said, looking pointedly at her wrists, where the imprints of the weighted gloves during work-out shone clearly against her dark skin.

She made a face at him, to which he shrugged off and gripped her shoulder briefly before walking away.

Shepard gazed absently at the armored shell of his retreating back, taking a sip from the can of Bio-tank and immediately jabbing her tongue out in disgust. Looking around for a garbage disposal unit, she glimpsed Dr. Chakwas out of her peripheral in the med-bay. 'Crap! Chakwas.'

Before she could rush to make up for her lateness, she heard Miranda's voice calling out to her. Shepard glanced over her shoulder to see her designated second-in-command stepping away from the Executive Office space located opposite the med-bay.

"Officer," Shepard greeted shortly as Miranda caught up to her, her booted heels tapping against the deck floor.

"Commander. I know you told the Yeoman to put me on hold," she began in a stiff tone, "but we have concrete intel of the Justicar's location. She's on Nos Astra, and from the looks of it, she won't be situated there for long. I recommend haste."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll get there. Tell Joker to dock on Illium until further notice." Shepard muttered. She looked down at the can of Bio-tank clutched in her hand, and an idea formed. "And... here, you like expensive drinks, right?" Miranda took the can with a precarious grip, eyeing it dubiously. She opened her mouth to respond, but Shepard turned away before Miranda could potentially return the energy drink.

Shepard exhaled, relieved, as she approached the med-bay. The entrance doors slid open, and she found Dr. Chakwas seated patiently. The doctor looked up at Shepard's entrance, and gave her a pleasant smile, the grey strands of her hair curling neatly against her jaw.

"Only two minutes earlier compared to your last time, Shepard. I'm impressed," Dr. Chakwas said, rising in her seat to meet Shepard.

"You think it should be my new record, Doc?" Shepard said, placing a hand on her hip.

"Most certainly. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?" Dr. Chakwas pressed the holographic switch that signaled the window cover, and guided her to the nearest medical bed. "We'll be examining your cybernetic implants and their integration with your nervous system, so get settled down here."

The automatic lighting in the room adjusted its brightness control as Shepard sat on the bed, kicking off her boots as she laid down. Dr. Chakwas fussed with the built in incisors above the bed while Shepard gazed at the ceiling, visually tracing the rectangle patterns embedded in the texture.

"This won't take long; I know you have another mission that needs to be completed," Dr. Chakwas said, the beeping of her Omni-tool loud in the darkened room. "Relax, Shepard. So, how have you been?"

Being told to relax was never much help. Shepard tried to loosen her tense muscles, inhaling and exhaling a little slower. She was among the large group of people who hated doctor check-ups. "I feel better than ever. And speaking of: aren't we about done with these near daily check-ups?"

"You know how it is, Shepard. You've been in the care of Cerberus medical officials for so long, and despite what Officer Lawson may say... Well, we still don't know the extent of their operations.

"And as much as I respect the admirable Professor Solus-I'm a much too possessive person to leave you solely in his care."

Shepard's gaze traced the deep crevices that layered the ceiling, mentally counting every other line in the pattern. The occasional beeping from the Doctor's Omni-tool signaled the progress of the scan. "Funny, Mordin kind of mentioned the same thing about you."

Dr. Chakwas chuckled, steadying the device over Shepard's abdomen. "Well, what can you honestly expect from two expert medical officials aboard one ship?" Her mirth dimmed as she tried to catch Shepard's eye. "Now be upfront with me, Commander-how are you really doing? Are you interacting well with the new crew?"

A strangled sound escaped from Shepard's throat, resembling something between a harsh snort and a dubious groan. "You ever remember me interacting well with the original crew, Doc? The stares are still there, except now they look at me like some kind of deity instead of a cold-blooded killer."

Dr. Chakwas peered down at Shepard's prone form, an expression of disquiet marking the lines of her face. "You did what was necessary at the time, Shepard. Your peers understood that fact at the time, but just chose to ignore it. You can't allow yourself to be ignorant, either."

"Did I really?" Shepard turned her head to the side, facing away from Dr. Chakwas. Not this again, she thought tiredly. Her mind slipped into the familiar pattern of troubled contemplation, as beeps from the Doctor's Omni-tool droned into the heavy silence of the med-bay. "Have I done all that I could. Today, on the Citadel, during the bloodbaths on Torfan and Mindoir...

"I could have done more. I could have saved more."

The beeping stopped. Dr. Chakwas inhaled a deep breath, exhaling through her nose as she logged Shepard's medical record on her Omni-tool. "There weren't any hiccups that I noticed. Your implants seem to be functioning well enough without any sign of prominent interference. You're doing fine, Commander."

Sitting up, Shepard shifted her legs over the edge of the bed. She stretched her right arm over her head, easing out the knotted joints, and repeated the same motion with her left arm. She noticed the Doctor observing her with a somber expression, her hands folded neatly behind her back. Shepard inclined her head.

"Try not to be so hard on yourself, Shepard. I will continue my recommendation that you socialize with the regular crew more. Just getting a semi-ordinary perspective may help you loosen up."

Shepard hopped from the bed, and crossed the small space to deactivate the window's cover. She watched as the cover lifted, revealing an animated crewman Hawthorne walking with Goldstein, gesturing with wide hand motions. Possibly still talking about the huge bet he lost during that last poker game. In the cooking quarters, the Chef was hovering over his latest dish as he painstakingly mixed ingredients in. Crewmen Hawthorne and Goldstein stopped near the Chef, wrinkling their noses and pointing at whatever mystery it was that lie in the pot today. The Chef started yelling and precariously waving around a huge steak knife; Shepard imagined he was emitting curses so obscene that she was glad she couldn't hear him from behind the glass. The corners of her lips lifted.

She turned to face Chakwas. "My friends, down on Mindoir, would act like them. There was a whole group of us, all between 13 and 17. We would screw around so much, laughing and doing shit all. We'd prank the workers at the local colonization base. You know. We didn't have a care in the world." Shepard looked back to the crew outside the med-bay window, vision glossing over. "Then the slavers' came for us. These ordinary kids, captured and taken away. The less desirables were cut down. And what did I do? Not a damn thing."

"Shepard, you know that's not-"

"It's kind of hard to talk to the crew because they remind me so much of my friends back home. These guys even look up to me," she chuckled bitterly. "My squad mates? They don't do that. They don't revere me, and I'm grateful for it. But it's just easier to keep my distance with the regular crew. That way, when I look at them I won't be reminded..."

Shepard looked down, her fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists.

"I won't let them down. Not like I let everyone else down."

* * *

Thane studied the rifle that lay across his palms, the light from the weapon case highlighting the gun. His eyes traced the familiar sheen of the metal encasing, checking for any smudge. Even a minor blemish, and he wouldn't hesitate to bring out the polishing equipment until every last dot was scrubbed away. He wasn't a man of many possessions, but that which he did carry was meticulously taken care of.

He adjusted the scope, twisting the angle with deft fingers until it set with a satisfying click. Running his gaze down the length of the gun, he breathed out softly before placing it into the open glass case lining the life support wall.

The case closed with a soft thud. Thane turned, facing the confines of the warm room. The narrow desk served as the only piece of proper furniture, while a feeble cot resided in the shadows. The atmosphere of the room was muted, but he found the heat emanating from the control pods a soothing compensation. Even if his only view was of the enormous drive core, his new living quarters were an adequate space.

After all, Thane was used to operating in less than habitable places, if it proved the success of a contract.

He crossed the small distance of the room to stand over the desk, his head bowed. His gaze focused absently on the gleam of the cold, grey surface.

The current mission, however, did not require his control for a chance of success. It was strange. Spanning the entirety of his life, he only sought to work alone. For years, he trained extensively to ensure that he would never require a need for back up. He preferred to live unseen, operating in shadowed solitude.

So it perplexed him now, that he willingly chose to forego the reclusive lifestyle, in favour of living with chattering humans aboard a Cerberus vessel. He wondered if his previous family would approve.

Thane pulled the chair out, its plated feet producing a loud scraping noise against the metal flooring. Settling into the seat, he steepled his hands against his lips as he looked on at the pulsing energy of the drive core. He stared through the thick glass, making out the quick shots of electrical fire that danced across the globe of metal and mass effect fields. The steady thrum emitting from the control generators near the door served to calm him. He exhaled slowly.

Awareness of his surroundings began to dim as the memories threatened to edge their way into his consciousness. He closed his eyes, allowing his being to be carried away on the trail of Time's reminiscence.

Thane opened his eyes.

She was smiling at him, the swirling patterns of deep violet and orange that dotted her crown shimmering in the glow of the Kahje sun. Today was a particularly sunny day.

He brought her fingers to his lips in a chaste kiss, before enfolding her hand in his as they turned to watch their son frolic among the artificial field that was encased in the domed area.

His eyes shone bright and eager, as he leaped and jumped around the grass with two long pieces of fabric trailing behind him. He sprinted to his parents, his lips parted in a wide grin. "Father look, I'm a hanar!"

Thane knelt down to pat his son's head, while a bittersweet mixture of emotions swirled in his gut. "Is that so, Kolyat?"

Kolyat nodded, reaching with a tentative hand to touch his father's wrist. "Can you be a hanar with me, too?"

Thane felt the squeeze of Irikah's hand upon his own. He gently untwined their fingers, and looked past Kolyat. He sighed. "Kolyat... I'm sorry, but I have to depart for work soon."

The boy simply gazed up at his father with solemn eyes, as if he were expecting such an answer all along. Kolyat turned away from his parents and began his trek across the field, no longer skipping and laughing.

Thane stared after his son for long moments, unfeeling to the new warmth at his side as Irikah nestled into him, patting his arm in motions meant for reassurance. While Kolyat moved further and further away, Thane could still see those large eyes gazing up at him, with the promise of bitter tears threatening to betray Kolyat's dignity.

Thane shut his eyes.

The low thrum of the generators were a signal of Thane's return to the present. He listened for a bit, concentrating on the steadiness of the sound. He would slumber with this sound, and wake with it for the duration of his time here. It would be a stability in his life, something he was sure that wouldn't be gone tomorrow.

Aside from his own body, he figured.

But now he was certain. Irikah would encourage him in this new direction of life. She would support him as he fought for retribution. She would want him to live again.

He had lost his way, when she died. He thought himself slumbering for many years, uncertain of ever awakening again. Yet, here he sat in a Cerberus vessel, participating in a mission that may validate all of his past regressions. It seemed that he may have found purpose in life again, something truly worth valuing. If this mission granted him destruction, then so be it, as he would finally pass on with the peace of reclaiming his path.

Except...

His primary lids lifted, and he watched the drive core pulse, unchanging from his descent into remembrances just moments earlier. He looked down at his fingers, and absently pulled at the slender digits.

Except for Kolyat. He could never truly drift amongst the Sea without making sure his son was safe. Thane didn't know if he should ever enter Kolyat's life again, as it may only cause more distress than amity, but he prayed to the Goddess Arashu for his son's protection.

Beeping from somewhere behind him signaled an entrance. Thane listened to the heavy footsteps for a moment, slowly advancing toward where he was seated. He glanced over his shoulder to see Shepard approaching him, idly observing the sparse decorations he placed around the room earlier. She paused near his desk, the glow from the weapon case highlighting the harsh scars lining her skin."There is one more recruitment mission in the squad journal. A Justicar to be specific. She's currently located on Nos Astra. I want you to get your feet wet."

Thane raised an eyebrow ridge, pondering over the meaning of her metaphor. He quickly ran through his knowledge of human speech cataloged in his brain, but just couldn't come up with an adequate explanation. She must have sensed his confusion, for she quickly amended her mistake. "I mean, I want to test you-your skills out in the field," she said, scratching the tip of her nose.

Thane peered at her curiously before responding. "Ah. There isn't any doubt that my skills will prove valuable for this mission. The recruitment of an asari Justicar will most certainly be a welcome challenge."

Shepard smiled widely, a scar near her lip hitching upward. "I'm glad you're ready for a fight, Krios. You'll fit in well here." Her tense posture loosened up, and she took a step toward his desk. Her hands tucked behind her back, she further examined the room, looking out the window to observe the drive core. She made a dissatisfied hm sound, before turning her gaze upon the rest of the room. He watched as her brown eyes settled upon something behind him, her brows scrunching up. "Uh, we can find something a bit more comfy for you to sleep on," she met his eyes sheepishly, as if embarrassed by the ship's supplied decor.

"No need, Shepard. I have spent many a night sleeping on items that were much more worse off."

She nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. He watched as her fingers dug into the tuft of short strands located at the nape. What humans called 'hair' curled against her touch, their dark ends highlighted in the soft beam of the weapon case. The insignificant motion mildly fascinated him, and he turned his attention away from her hair to meet her eyes when she spoke next. "Well then, how are you settling in so far?"

Thane gestured to the seat opposite from his, motioning for her to sit down. "Well enough. My quarters are set up, but I am having a small issue with choosing a primary medical adviser. Both Professor Solus and Dr. Chakwas seem to be... adamant about being my sole caretaker."

Shepard shook her head as she adjusted her weight in the seat, waving a dismissive hand. "Let me guess, Mordin wants you to be his new pet project since there aren't many drell around. And Chakwas probably wants to baby you the whole time you're here."

The semblance of a smile flitted across Thane's lips. "Along those lines, yes. Who would you personally recommend, Shepard?"

She tsked. "What, and spare you from being mixed up in their big-wig, medical dick-measuring contest? No, I don't think so, Krios. You get the treatment just like everybody else aboard," she smiled, leaning back in the seat with her arms crossed.

Thane chuckled. He was amused by her turn of character; from an attempted serious air when she first entered, to the relaxed state she now exhibited as she eyed him leisurely Although he wouldn't admit that he was thoroughly confused by her choice in metaphor.

Shepard broke eye contact with him. "So, about your illness..." she trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to broach the topic.

He figured the subject would be brought up, eventually. "I suspected you wanted to know more. It is called Kepral's Syndrome, an incurable lung disease that affects drell who spend extended amounts of time on humid surfaces. I assume Professor Solus has alerted you to the details of it being non-transferable and such."

"Er, mostly. I just wanted to learn a few things from you."

Thane shifted in his seat, folding his hands against his lips as he considered her statement. He was a creature of habit who preferred to act with discretion, so the prospect of opening up was a bit daunting. Being completely honest, it had been quite some time since he had met someone who simply wanted to know more about him.

His gaze refocused on Shepard as she watched him carefully, fidgeting in her seat as she awaited his answer. It would be the second time in only a few hours in which he would indulge her.

"I suppose you do not know much about my culture," he began hesitantly. "Ask."

She leaned forward. "Well first off, isn't there a way to prevent this... Kepral's Syndrome? Just.. don't live in wet places?"

Thane set his folded hands upon the desk, deliberating over his answer. He noticed her gaze fixated on his hands, curious as to why a perturbed expression suddenly flicked across her face. She quickly masked it, and looked up at him expectantly. He spoke, "You must first know, Shepard, that my people were saved from a dying home world by the hanar. They then transported us-well, most of our people-to Kahje-"

"Most of your people?" she interrupted, blinking in confusion.

Thane bowed his head, not meeting her inquiring gaze. Before he was accepted into the Compact, his parents would tell him stories of their time spent in the ravaged desert cities of Rakhana. Drell children were taught the values of history, religion, and art very early on.

The family would gather round the fire in their small, industrial home, and he would listen, engrossed by his parents' story telling. Memories of their solemn expressions as they relayed history threatened to overwhelm his psyche as he spoke. "Over 300,000 drell were evacuated, out of the 11 billion on Rakhana. Since then, the hanar have constructed domed cities on Kahje for my people to inhabit."

"Wait, but Kahje is... it's covered in water. Even if the drell reside in the domes, it can't be anything but bad for your people. You don't have to stay there, right?" She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Just find a better homeworld?"

Thane frowned. "I am afraid things are not that simple, Shepard. We owe the hanar a great due and will continue to remain on the planet in order to offer further assistance.

"And although it may seem like my entire species is for the most part, giving up our lives to repay a debt, maybe that is the way it should be." Thane said, shifting in his seat as his hands clenched together tightly. "There were many savage acts committed on Rakhana during the olden days; the blood of our siblings, parents, and children stained across desert walls all for a minor scrap of food."

Shepard leaned toward him, a look of consternation crossing her features. "So... what? You're basically telling me that your people should willingly stay on Kahje to repent for what happened over two centuries ago? I'm... not understanding this."

Thane exhaled softly, his brow ridges drawing together. "Think, Shepard. Not only were my elders' lives deteriorating, but so was the soil they tread upon. We generated great spite upon the Goddess Arashu, who only swore to protect our kind.

"Possibly a form of punishment is due. A sentencing. Then it is fitting that our lives will continue to deteriorate, as will our health if we continue to stay. A life of pain and inevitably, death."

Shepard's reaction to his statement was so imposing that Thane slightly drew back from her, wary of this new direction the conversation was taking. She leaned on her arms across the table, vehemence flashing in her eyes as she spoke. "So your people are just willing to die? Just like that? What happened all those years ago was unfortunate, but your people can still persevere. Yet, you're letting yourselves be done in by continuing to live on Kahje." Her fist thumped lightly against the desk, emphasizing her frustration as she spoke.

"And for what? Is fulfilling a debt really worth letting your species slowly die out? It's... how can you accept that?" she said, leaning back as she fixed him with a resolute stare.

Thane unclasped his hands, regarding her bleakly. From what he had learned of the human nature through his studies during training years ago, he knew that those of the soft-skinned species held a bold, inquisitive disposition. Determined creatures they were, willing to go to any length to achieve what they sought. Hard-headed and arrogant, some might say. Thane personally held no ill intent toward individuals of the species, despite fulfilling contracts that may have listed a human target.

But were they always this incapable of understanding the magnitude of such a matter as debt?

"Other races in the galaxy place great value in loyalty and debt, Shepard. Do not assume that human standards can apply easily to my species," he said, a hint of crispness edging into his tone. She opened her mouth to retort, but he quickly pressed on before she could interrupt. "Please understand that simply leaving Kahje is not a factor. My people have been granted great generosity by the hanar, and we owe them deeply. We are bound."

Shepard rapped her knuckles against her jaw as she thought about his explanation, the corners of her lips down-turned. "But your people would continue to be afflicted by this illness," she persisted.

"It is a price that must be paid. A drell never forgets his debts."

She splayed her hands out on the table surface in an exasperated motion, looking him in the eye. "But your people are still dying. It sounds to me like the hanar are just binding you into indentured serv-ah, screw it. Into slavery."

Thane narrowed his eyes, his lips forming a hard, straight line as he regarded her. "I offered to speak of my peoples' history, not have their dignity insulted. We are not bound by constraints in order to perform tasks for the hanar; our actions are completely voluntary. My people are fiercely allegiant. Never confuse that with slavery, Shepard.

"Now if you have nothing more to say, I would prefer prepping alone for the upcoming mission. Thank you, Commander."

His tone was enough to get the point across. Shepard stood up rigidly, her hands balled into fists. She appeared indecisive as she hovered beside his desk, as if wanting to say more. "We touch shore in 0900 hours. Be ready," was all she said, chiming in the latter statement unnecessarily, before turning on her heel to leave.

Thane bowed his head, perturbed by the mild feeling of discontent rising in his chest. He stood up, passing the desk to stand in front of the window overseeing the drive core. Exhaling, he absently gazed at the crew men shuffling about on the engineering deck below.

She needn't call them slaves, he thought.

The word itself was stagnant in his mouth and repulsive by any standard. His people were no such thing. They acted as they did because they had nothing else to offer the hanar. But what had he honestly expected her to understand of it? Why had he even felt the inclination to explain? To erase any negative misconceptions she had about his race, until she finally understood? Was it naivety that led him to speak, or his own mere curiosity of the blundering Commander?...

Shepard stood with her back against the life support door, her arms crossed over her chest.

She was far from satisfied as her first full conversation with the new recruit came to an abrupt end. The way he simply dismissed her was aggravating. And although some part of her felt that it was deserved due to her boisterous outburst, she still couldn't help but feel confused about the whole thing.

Shepard didn't understand, and it annoyed her. She hated when she couldn't comprehend certain concepts; it made her feel.. inferior, useless. It was a bad feeling.

She knew loyalty, but to go to such great extents to repay dues was simply unfathomable. Punishment by a disease? To be willing to die for the fulfillment of repentance was deranged. Especially considering that most drell today weren't even alive when their world was destroyed. They were attempting to repent for their parents' and grandparents' actions.

Her whole life, Shepard fought to survive and persevere. Through Mindoir, the Citadel battle, hell, even being spaced wouldn't stop her. Readily giving up her life was a thought she balked at. So she just couldn't understand why so many drell were willing to let that disease—that Kepral's Syndrome-dwindle their numbers, when they had a choice to relocate and live peacefully. Debts be damned.

But more than that, she was annoyed at how the issue troubled her so much in the first place. If everyone in the universe just had the common decency to save their own asses, she wouldn't have to worry so much.

Shepard exhaled. Something else confused her as well. Another emotion burrowed deep in her gut, something akin to embarrassment. Thinking back over the conversation, she supposed that she had acted a bit brashly. Shepard groaned in agitation as she recalled how Thane had reacted after her outburst, curtly dismissing her. Yet the drell had the nerve to still be polite about it!

It bugged her. She knew that she shouldn't care about the opinion of someone she just met, but there it was.

Shepard shook her head and pushed away from the door, forcing the conversation with Thane out of her mind. There was a Justicar to recruit. But from the looks of the dossier, Shepard wasn't too excited to meet yet another philosophical killer. Just the thought of debating the topic of justice with an elder asari gave her a headache.

She was tired of thinking. Now she just wanted to shoot things and call it a day.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own Thane Krios or anything from Mass Effect

AN: So this is going to be the last super long chapter. I've been reading other peoples' fics and noticing the length of their chapters, and I realized that my word count per chapter is completely ridonkulous. So I'm cutting down on the length not only to minimize stress on myself, but on my betas and you, the readers, as well. I'm sure you guys have got tons of stuff to do that don't involve sitting down to read upwards of 9k words. Right? Well, I'm going to set the maximum word count for future chapters at 6000. Is that still too much, though? idk

**Update: To old readers, this is just the first part of chapter 3. Feel free to skip this whole chapter. Sorry for any confusion. **

Anyway, thanks goes to my betas, as always.

* * *

He listened to the birdsong. Serene amidst the bustling city noise, the melodic chirping rang clear in his ears. The sound came from further away, but with a slight strain he was able to pin-point its delicate pitch. His eyes closed to the commotion of Nos Astra's inhabitants fluttering about the skyway, and his ears shut out every other noise to the bird's song. He allowed a low humming to escape from his throat.

He sang with the second language of the drell, vibrations rippling along the air pockets lodged in his throat. His humming was deep in pitch, and low enough so that near passerby would never be the wiser. His voice matched the bird's song as its tone fluctuated. He closed his eyes to the vibrant swashes of purple and orange that dotted the sky. For now, his mind began to settle into the familiar pattern of light meditation.

Though he was still partly aware of his surroundings. Once one reached a higher level of perceivance, it was difficult to completely let go.

Especially when the woman behind him made no effort of lowering her voice. From what bits of conversation he deemed important enough to acknowledge, Shepard was speaking to the Cerberus officer by the name of Miranda. With his back turned to Shepard and his head bowed, Thane tried to shift his thoughts back to the subtle song. But the chirping of the birdsong began to drift away, fading into the boisterous sounds of the city. He stopped humming.

"Dara told us that they haven't been able to get an update on the Justicar's location once she left the police district. You got any other leads on your side?" Shepard spoke into the comm.

"As a matter of fact, we do. Cerberus has always kept track of our contacts stationed in the major hubs," Miranda replied. There was a pause on her end, as if she were looking up information. "A salarian by the name of Kordath is located near the transport bay. He should be able to provide you with the intel. Happy hunting, Commander."

Thane heard the faint beep of the comm link as Shepard shut off her end. Beside him, the tattooed human named Jack leaned against the railing of the staircase they were standing next to. She raised her arms over her head in a flexing motion, before turning around to Shepard, a sly glint in her eye. "If only we could hunt down the Cerberus bitch herself—that would make things a hell of a lot less boring around here."

Shepard shook her head, tapping her fingers against her thigh impatiently."You two could try to kill each other after the mission. But right now, your attention needs to be focused on following me," Shepard said.

Jack waved her off dismissively. There was a bustling noise from behind him, where Shepard stood, and then sudden quietness. Thane could feel their attention now fixed on him. Jack peered at him for a moment, before a look of annoyance crossed her features as she moved out of Thane's line of vision. He couldn't hear Shepard; the unsubtle motions she usually made were strangely absent. His back had been turned to his two boisterous companions this whole time, though he remained aware of their motions. Shepard seemed to be deliberately disguising her movements, oddly enough.

Thane felt, rather than heard, her presence slink up from behind him. She was attempting to be silent and agile, but to drell ears she might as well have been stomping on wooden flooring. He waited, letting her draw closer and believe that she had him fooled. Her boots creaked across the polished floor, and her movement paused abruptly, as if cautious of the sound. She began to move toward him again, possibly thinking the noise of her movements went unnoticed.

His hand shot out, grasping one of her wrists loosely. He felt her jump in surprise, as her fingers twitched near his own. Despite himself, a smile played across his lips. He kept his back turned to her.

"Shepard, you should know by now that sneaking up on an assassin is not a wise decision," Thane said, raising his gaze toward the marble roof.

He heard a finger snap from behind him, as Shepard voiced her indignation. "Damn! I thought I had you, too."

Thane turned to face her fully, still loosely grasping her wrist. There was a competitive glint in her eyes as she balled her free hand on her hip. The pearly gleam of their surroundings reflected coldly against her skin, the scars lining her face appearing harsh in the light. Jack stood above them, standing at the door leading into the lower markets with her arms crossed over her chest, eyeing them both impatiently.

Thane released Shepard's wrist before brushing past her. Making his ascent up the small staircase, he looked back briefly. "If you do intend to sneak up on me again, first make sure that the creaking of your armor doesn't give you away."

And with that suggestion, Thane entered the corridor leading to Nos Astra's lower markets.

Shepard consulted with the salarian contact located near the shuttle bay. Thane stood farther away, and making out their conversation was proving to be difficult. Though from Shepard's sudden aggressive hand gestures, it was simple to guess her mood. He turned away from them, and surveyed the platform.

It took time adjusting to the environment. In all the two years he spent on Illium, venturing out into open spaces such as this was not an option. An assassin committed his soul to the darkness, slinking between the cracks of visibility. Being one with the shadows was the most apt way to live.

So at first Thane was uncomfortable walking through the crowded district of Nos Astra, weaving between the horde of bodies. But he quickly adjusted, as he expected of himself. Even just standing amidst the crowd of the lower markets, he folded himself in, fading out of awareness. Nos Astra's inhabitants were a direct folk as it was, rushing and bustling to reach their destinations, so it was even easier for Thane to go unnoticed. As it should be.

There was movement in his peripheral, a flash of blue that jetted into the crowd of passerby. He tracked the movement, the shaved head of Jack standing out amidst the sea of Nos Astra's elite. She glanced back once, and met his eyes. A spark of defiance lit up her dark eyes, and a corner of her lips hitched upward before she turned and wove into the crowd.

Thane looked on for a moment longer, considering. Shepard was very adamant about keeping the squad together when out in the field. He turned to see her aggressively shoving a finger into the contact's chest, and yelling. He was thankful that the noise of the crowd concealed the no doubt vitriolic effect of her words.

She suddenly turned on her heel, marching away from the salarian. The expression on her face was sour, and he imagined that her mood would only worsen when she learned of Jack's sudden absence. As she made her way toward him, he absently took note of the nearby exchange between a volus and a biotic merchant. The tone of the volus' voice indicated irritation, and Thane guessed it had something to do with expensive prices. Such was the norm on a planet like Illium.

Shepard neared him, the gait of her walk rigid and tense. Thane inclined his head, surveying the way her nostrils flared as a sign of agitation. Retrieving intel from the contact didn't go as planned, he supposed. She all but confirmed his thoughts with her next declaration.

"This is the last time I use Cerberus contacts. I've had it with their faulty information, or worse, no information. I told this to Miranda before, but things still haven't changed," she huffed, tapping her foot.

Shepard hadn't noticed Jack's absence in her frustration. Thane suddenly felt weary. "Shepard, I-"

"You think with the creds they used to bring me back, they can afford some decent information brokers," she ranted on, seemingly unaware of Thane's attempts to rouse her attention.

"Shepard, Jack is-"

"And he had the nerve to expect me to be grateful! Might as well have tried to wrangle information out of a pyjak." Shepard threw up her hands, turning on her heel and pacing away from Thane.

He dipped his head, his brow ridges furrowing. Was she ignoring him on purpose? It began to grate on his nerves; he didn't accept her recruitment just so she could disregard him like this. "Shepard!" He took a step toward her, bothered at having to impose himself for her attention.

She paused in her pacing, giving him a curious look. "You don't have to yell, Thane. What do you want?"

He could have doubled over in exasperation. "Shepard, you should be aware that our squad mate has-"

"Miss! Over here! Would you and your companion happen to be biotically inclined? I have an offer for upgrades that is downright irresistible," a merchant called. Thane noticed that the merchant was operating in a booth with another, who was speaking with the volus he spotted from earlier. He expected Shepard to ignore the asari merchant, but instead she immediately strode off in direction of the booth. Thane sighed, and followed her. She would take notice eventually.

"T-that is far too expensive... just for a bio-amp! Lower your prices or you will lose this customer," the volus said, inhaling deeply as he threatened the nearby merchant. Shepard stood near the volus, an eyebrow raised at his exclamation. She turned to the asari merchant who had initially called for her attention, as Thane approached the booth.

"Well, what's your offer?" he heard Shepard say as she eyed the merchant suspiciously.

The asari smiled sweetly before nodding to her companion merchant who was handling the volus. The two exchanged knowing glances, before turning back to their respective charges. Suspicion rose in Thane.

"We offer the latest Sophist bio-amp, just for a quick down payment of 8,000 credits!" the merchant said.

"What?! Why does the human receive... such a bargain, when you overcharge me for the same package? That's it, this is a scam!" the volus said, before tossing his arms up in frustration and stomping away.

The two asari merchants paid the volus no mind, turning their attention fully on Shepard. The pleasant smiles they wore seemed plastered to their skin. "Oh, don't mind the last customer. He was actually asking for a completely different brand; have you heard of Biocline?" Shepard shook her head, a dubious expression on her face. "And with good reason, they are very expensive."

Before Shepard could fully grasp the insinuation, the merchant quickly brought up the product information on her omni-tool. Thane stared after the volus' retreating form, his own suspicions of the merchant booth all but confirmed. He turned to Shepard and the asari who were discussing the details of the biotic upgrade. The other merchant eyed him languidly, and she lifted a slender finger that beckoned him closer.

"Would you happen to be a biotic also? We have package deals for couples, you know."

Shepard barked out a laugh, giving the other merchant an incredulous look. "You got the wrong idea, lady."

"Oh! Well, I just assumed... well, how about the single? We can give you the same offer as your companion here. So what do you say, my drell friend?"

Thane shook his head rigidly, turning back to Shepard. He leaned in closer to her so that the two merchants wouldn't be able to discern his conversation. A flowery scent drifted from her hair, light and breezy, as if it had just been washed. He exhaled the scent through his nose. "Shepard, I do not believe that their offer of bio-amps is legitimate. It would not be in good faith to-"

"Oh, don't be such a tight-ass. I know what I'm doing, and besides-these bio-amps do not come this cheap anywhere else," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. The skin between her brow wrinkled as she looked at him, and she took a step away from him. "I already bought it anyhow."

The asari smiled another buttery smile as she closed her omni-tool. "That will be all, miss. Your purchase will automatically transfer into the records aboard your ship. Have a nice day."

Shepard walked away without another word, activating her omni-tool with a click as she surveyed the recent order details. Thane folded his hands behind his back as he kept pace with her. He noted how even now, Shepard did not notice the absence of their tattooed companion.

He glanced at her. Her head was bowed over the holographic device as she moved, seemingly ignoring his presence altogether. As they walked through the transport deck, the crowd purposely avoided bumping into Shepard. Even though she wasn't the tallest person, her rough demeanor made up for her stature. As for Thane, the subtlety of his presence allowed for easier maneuvering throughout the bustling walkway.

"Shepard," he called to her.

Thane half-expected her to ignore him, whether out of pretense or true obliviousness. But Shepard paused, lifting her gaze to him as she shut off the omni-tool. He stepped into her space, indirectly guiding her away from the crowd so that they wouldn't get pushed against. She stepped farther away from him in response, catching the railing behind her. She looked up at him with impatience flashing in her brown eyes, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

He exhaled quietly, bowing his head as he stood in front of her. The zoom of nearby shuttles sounded from around them, mixing with the noise of advertisements and rapid conversation from Nos Astra's inhabitants. The heavy scent of perfume saturated his senses, and he absently brushed his fingers against his nose. He considered his options, contemplating how to approach this situation. He finally met her gaze.

"Jack is gone."

At his statement, Shepard initially looked confused. She looked around, once to her left, and once to her right. Then the expression of befuddlement quickly switched to agitation. She slapped her palm across her forehead, her mouth opening and closing in frustration. "Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?!"

* * *

Thane was uncomfortable. It was not often that an assassin could be caught off guard, but it did happen on occasion. This was one such occurrence.

Shepard pushed through the crowd, shoving people and cursing when they wouldn't move fast enough. She moved quickly, and about as gracefully as a krogan under the influence of blood rage. It didn't help that occasionally she would glance back at Thane and forcibly tug at the fabric of his jacket to hurry him along. And each time, he would swiftly pull out of her grasp.

"Shepard," he said, unwilling to raise his voice higher. "I believe our companion went in the direction of the lower alleys. My advice is not on unfounded terms."

She scoffed. "Yeah, and how would you know? I can find people; we'll find her my way," she said, forcing her way through a gathering of passerby.

And yet she couldn't locate the Justicar after all this time.

Thane suddenly felt a sharp jab in his side, and on instinct he nearly reached back to incapacitate the unsuspecting pedestrian. He quickly suppressed the natural urge. "I would know because I have proven my skills as a tracker. This does not need to be said."

Shepard glanced back at him then. Instead of the usual sour expression he expected her to wear, a wiry smile played at her lips. So she took his statement as a challenge. The realization didn't displease him. The slight Illium breeze faltered, brushing away the dark bangs that revealed her forehead. "I'll find her," Shepard said.

Thane didn't comment, turning away from her as he contemplated his surroundings. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and met the image of Shepard pursing her lips in a sullen pout. It was odd to see such an immature expression on the scar worn face of Shepard. She arched an eyebrow expectantly, the thickness of her brows at odds with the finely lined hairs of her eyelashes. Was she deliberately doing this, just for the sake of challenging him?

She tossed a lingering glance over her shoulder as she turned away, heading in the opposite direction that Thane intended.

Very well. He accepted her challenge.

Thane followed as she barreled through the crowd, her path made that much more difficult by the amount of incoming passerby. Elbows dug into his side, and Thane suddenly felt wary of the random hands that brushed against places he usually kept concealed. Loud chatter sounded from all around him, the quick persuasion of travelers vying for lower prices of merchandise. The plastic neon lights of skyscrapers above seemed to glow brighter, and jittery electrical music wafted from the windows. Nos Astra was beginning to come alive as the sun descended into its daily ritualistic death.

Shepard suddenly veered to the left, ungracefully attempting to miss the asari carrying a platter of bright blue and red drinks. Thane respectfully stepped to the side, and managed to weave out of the path of speeding civilians. He scanned the crowd for Shepard, finding a flash of dark red armor standing near the escalator. She was looking for him, turning her gaze left and right to locate him.

Thane approached her, cutting through the mass of people shortly. He noted how she still didn't notice him until he was standing directly in front of her. Shepard raised her gaze to him, pushing off from the wall she was leaning against just as an asari barreled into her. She scowled at the asari, and barked obscenities that were wholly unfamiliar to him. Thane frowned.

She was already testy, and they were nowhere close to locating Jack. Her imperfect tracking skills would take even more of a nose dive as her mood worsened.

"Just another example of how humans think they can just barge anywhere at any time," the asari chided, tilting up her chin. Her companion stood behind, her arms clasped over her chest.

Shepard balked, her lips melding into a sneer as she glared at the asari. "Well well well, look at what we have here-another self righteous asari. We sure don't see enough of those around here."

The asari balled up her fists, bouncing on the soles of her feet in agitation. "And why wouldn't we be a little cautious of outsiders on our own planet? Dirt covered settlers trying to get by on what few credits they possess—to eternity with the lot of you!" She waved her hand dismissively as she turned her back on Shepard.

To say that Shepard wasn't pleased was an understatement. Just before the tension would escalate into a full blown altercation, Thane stepped into Shepard's line of sight. As the asari sauntered away with her companion, Thane met Shepard's eyes. He inclined his head toward the escalator, silently reminding her of the reason they were here. Frowning, she shoved past him and climbed the steps.

Thane waited for the escalator to ascend, while Shepard trudged up the moving steps. His fingers loosely scaling the railing, he gazed at the crowd below. The slight breeze brushed against his face, bringing with it a mixture of scents-floral and sweet, spicy and musky, dank and rotten. The city of Nos Astra wore a facade of novelty and cleanliness, but Thane had spent enough time here to tell otherwise.

The crowd steadily descended as the escalator rose, hundreds of forms darting to and fro. The fast-paced hustle and bustle never wore down, not even in the wee hours of sunset. Even now, travelers boarded the escalator, and Thane could feel their steps marching upward. He angled his position to the side, allowing the travelers to brush past him. More touching; the fabric of their cloth scraping against his skin. Experiencing such close vicinities with strangers made him feel out of place.

He looked up to see Shepard looming over the escalator, looking down at him impatiently. As soon as Thane crossed the last step, Shepard bolted ahead. The sun's light filtered in between the imposing buildings, and reflected against Shepard's armor as he kept her in sight. She didn't seem keen on making sure Thane wouldn't lose her. It did not trouble him however, as he deftly slid through the crowd of shoppers and tourists.

In contrast, Shepard nearly bowled through the crowd. A colourful medley of curses escaped from her lips as she tried to push her way through. For those unfortunate enough to be in her way, the hard plating of her armor clad shoulders did the damage her cursing couldn't.

They made it to a small corner near a shop that was devoid of travelers. Shepard exhaled irritably, placing her palm against the nearest wall. Thane neared her, turning to scan the crowd.

Asari dressed in form fitting clothing were a common sight. Humans also appeared, often pausing to examine the scenery. Volus were staples at merchant booths, not surprising considering their penchant for finance. This depth of racial diversity unnerved him when he first departed from Kahje. His training prepped him for interactions with other species, but to see so many different creatures residing in one place made him wary when he arrived years ago. The stares and pointing due to his drell heritage didn't abate the caution.

Though he had long since adapted, and even though he purposefully avoided any in-depth interaction, asari and humans were the two species he identified closely with. Asari due to his familiarity with their religion Siari, and he had studied the human philosophers extensively.

"Damn tourists. They are the second biggest reason I hate going to this place," Shepard huffed.

She turned to him, her short hair brushing against her neck in the breeze. He was reminded of a saying by one particular human philosopher by the name of Plato -'You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation.'

This struck doubly true due to Thane's already perceptive nature. But just being around Shepard in these last few moments had given Thane's enough example of her brash demeanor; she rushed headlong into any dilemma, and quite literally if the disgruntled horde of travelers was any sort of proof.

He suspected that she had purposely gone in the wrong direction all along, and her only reasoning would have been to spite Thane.

"Any sign?" she spoke, intruding on his train of thought.

Thane shook his head, folding his hands behind his back as he regarded her. Shepard planted her hands on her hips, gazing up at the sky as if the great expanse held all the answers in the universe.

"Perhaps... I should search on my own," he offered.

Shepard's eyes flitted back to Thane, immediate certainty in her gaze. "Absolutely not. There is already an unstable convict running around Nos Astra-the city doesn't need an assassin tiddling about as well."

"Considering that I have 'tiddled about' Nos Astra for two years, a few extra hours would not be such a price to large pay," Thane responded.

But Shepard had already decided, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Thane exhaled softly, turning to face the gradually fading sun. The rays of dimming light washed over his face; he savored every moment of the Illium sun before it departed for nightfall. He presumed after his recent recruitment that he wouldn't be back on the asari dominated planet again so soon. Especially not for tracking down a loose convict.

"Have you examined the company you keep, Shepard?"

This earned a tsk from the Commander. "Of course I have. I am assembling the best damn crew for this mission. Why would you ask me that?"

Thane bowed his head, blinking slowly as he considered his words. "Considering the current absence of our comrade... maybe the recruitment of a convict was a lapse in judgment?"

Shepard's eyebrows scrunched up together, a clear sign of her pre-emptive annoyance. "My judgment is fine. Jack is perfect for the job. Well, at least when she isn't running off on her own, but that's beside the point."

"But her running off is detracting from mission time, is it not? Perhaps-"

" 'Perhaps' nothin'. I know what I'm doing here, Thane," she said, as she turned her nose up at him and walked away. Thane considered her reaction, the impulsive indignation that flared up at the mention of his concern. She was unusually quick to defend Jack, and even then her words held an ounce of hesitation.

Was she simply siding against Thane for the sake of it?

His brows furrowed as he lifted his gaze to watch Shepard aimlessly stomp away from him. It was clear that she didn't know where she was going, if her marching headlong into the mens' restroom was any clue.

He sighed in exasperation.

From the shadows, the Justicar watched. The heavily tattooed human woman jabbed a finger in the chest of the shopkeeper. The asari stumbled back, gazing at the human with wide eyes. The human gestured wildly, her full lips pulled tight. The neon light gleamed off of her pale skin, the bare crown of her head highlighted. The asari shopkeeper slowly backed toward the shopping terminal, gulping deeply as she eyed the human. She activated the terminal keyboard, her azure fingers flying over the holographic keys.

The human's arms were crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently as she watched the shopkeeper. "Hurry up! Credit transfer does not take that long-I should know. Unless," the human leaned in, her shaped brows curving acutely, "you're calling for someone."

The asari jumped back, her trembling fingers paused over the keyboard. She shook her head violently, her eyes pleading with the human. "N-no! I swear it! I'm not... I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Good. Because I could rip the flesh off your skinny blue ass faster than you could yell 'help.' " the tattooed woman said, leaning back.

The Justicar stood up silently, peering at the encounter that was occurring only a few feet below. Her eyes narrowed as the human woman turned away, watching as her fingers tapped against her forearm. She murmured a silent hymn of duties long treasured, dedicated to the Code, and stepped from the shadows.

Shepard tried pounding on the omni-tool, though to no avail as her fist merely phased through the holographic interface. She sighed in anger, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Dammit. Once I find that bald menace, she is going to wish I left her back on Purgatory."

Thane stood poised, flexing his knuckles as he waited. She took frequent pauses in their search, either to curse at the comm link or glance about her surroundings for any sighting of a garishly dressed human woman. They stood near the bottom of the staircase that lead into the upper deck and the Eternity bar.

She glanced up at him, her fingers hovering over the omni-tool. "Anything at all?"

"No," he replied. Jack wasn't near any of the places they visited. "Perhaps-"

"No," she interrupted him before he could even suggest a new direction. "I know what I'm doing, I can find her. So help me, I will find her" Shepard said. Thane had half an inclination to respond, but Shepard had become distracted by an asari calling out for her attention. He had long since taken note of her inability to ignore the temptations of the financial world, and how prone she was to fall to the word 'discount.' He was beginning to tire of it.

"Miss! Miss, would you be interested in a package deal for cybernetic cosmetics?"

Thane watched as Shepard's brows scrunched up, peering over at the asari merchant. She met his gaze, and his eyes were devoid of any reaction. Shepard glanced around, perhaps pulling one last effort to locate Jack, and shrugged. She cut through the crowd, curiosity hedged in her gaze as she approached the asari. Thane followed, his shoulders almost imperceptibly drooping from their poised stance.

"Ah, you are an absolutely perfect candidate," the asari cooed to Shepard. "You will find that our products will completely suit you!"

Shepard leaned in to observe the holographic advertisement on the booth, clasping her hands behind her back. "Beauty enhancements? Why, well... I'm flattered," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is this for modeling?"

Thane sensed a hint of fluster behind her words, and he turned to peer at her curiously. An abashed smile curved across her scar-tinged face, and her gaze was fixated on the ground. Thane blinked.

Even though he had only been acquainted with Shepard for a short period of time, viewing such a blatant display of modesty from the Commander struck him as a rare occurrence. It amused, and to a lesser degree, alarmed him.

Shepard met his eyes, and he watched her cheeks darken in embarrassment. She cleared her throat, squaring back her shoulders as she turned to face the merchant.

A rare occurrence indeed.

The asari smiled demurely, inclining her head in slight confusion. "Modeling? Oh, my dear, once you invest in our Arlos Solution Three Step System Kit, you will look even better than... well, the turian models, at least."

Shepard's brows scrunched up in confusion as she considered the asari's words. "Is there something wrong with the way I look?" she asked, her voice lowering an octave.

"Oh! Dear, I wouldn't go so far as to say wrong, exactly. Just a few things that could be... hm," the asari grasped her chin, pondering her next words as she peered at Shepard. "Improved."

Shepard's frown deepened as she crossed her arms. Tension returned to her shoulders as she looked at the asari expectantly. "And exactly what things to do you think I need improvingon?"

The asari's smile faltered for a moment, but the shrewd tone of confidence was quickly regained. "Very minor... blemishes... that could be easily adjusted. Like your scars, for example. They are very deep, but our cybernetic Scar Fade Away kit can easily patch up even the toughest wounds."

Shepard's brow twitched, and the asari continued, heedless of tact and the consequences that were sure to follow. Thane, standing a ways back from the two women but still in earshot, glanced at Shepard. She flexed her fingers repeatedly, the gesture hinting at her rising anger.

He watched her absently press a finger against a deep scar, and he contemplated the seemingly trivial movement. However, it was a strange musing that wasn't exactly suited for the task at hand.

Despite what the asari merchant seemed to be implying, Shepard's appearance was not altogether displeasing. The usual scowl she wore had at first been absent when she mistakenly assumed that the asari called for her to model, and he had taken note of her defining features. Prominent lips, a wide nose, down-turned eyes, and the scars that traced her skin. No, she was not altogether flawed as the asari may have been suggesting. For a being of another species, at least.

The sudden dwelling of shallow appearances in regard to the Commander perturbed him, and Thane quickly tucked the thoughts away. He noticed that the asari's mechanical smile now seeped with tension as she regarded Shepard.

"Okay," she began, her voice shaky. "Let's just say that I've, ah, studied the male equivalent of your species extensively. And it's come to my attention that over the centuries, the human women that reproduce most often seem to carry themselves with a softer demeanor. And a softer... hairstyle," the asari gestured to Shepard, waving a hand over her bluntly cut hair. "Might I also suggest the Arlos 2 Step Hair Growth Solut-"

The holographic interface lining the booth glitched spasmodically as Shepard's fist slammed down. A glare spoke all the words her lips wouldn't say, non-relenting and burning with indignation.

The scowl that was quickly becoming familiar had returned.

The asari merchant inhaled sharply, taking a quick step back from the booth as she shouted "Hey!" Shepard rubbed at the skin between her eyebrows as she turned away from the asari and Thane. He watched her fingers linger at a scar, before quickly snatching away.

"Come back here! What you did is vandalism, a-and you will answer to the authorities for this!"

Shepard's pace slowed, and she threw a cautionary look over her shoulder. "You think the police are going to gun for a former Spectre?" She shook her head, leisurely clutching the pistol strapped at her hip. "And besides, what I did was a service for the community of Nos Astra. You should be thanking me."

Thane gazed at her retreating back, not initially following. Shepard's posture stood rigid, her arms laying tightly against her sides. Anger and barely concealed defiance trailed at her heels. As she marched through the walkway, she tousled her hair for a moment, running her fingers through the short strands. He frowned as she faded into the crowd of travelers.

He was weary of such an outright display of anger from the Commander. Her emotions were blatantly exposed, livid and burning, and it unsettled him to witness such vulnerability in an ally. As an assassin, Thane was trained in the art of disguising not only his presence, but his deeper mental state as well. Though it seemed to come easier to him, as he had naturally possessed a placid disposition.

Shepard however, was the complete opposite. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, bare for all the galaxy to see. He had half an inclination to deem her behavior as irrational, and suddenly found himself questioning his recent decision to join her mission.

Perhaps she was simply exhibiting natural human behavior. The species was well known throughout the galaxy for their traits of impulsiveness and having an impatient attitude. It only seemed appropriate that Shepard, one of the most famous humans as far as he was concerned, exemplified the race.

Though to be fair, Thane did have limited experience with humans, and much of what he knew of the species was gathered from the vids, or from what information he collected if they were on his target list. He had never been in such close proximity with so many humans until he boarded the Normandy. This was all proving to be a new experience, and he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he was unsettled at having to readjust. Working with others after spending so much time on his own was a trying prospect.

Shepard looked back briefly, the frown still set into her features. He met her eyes from across the platform, and though the interaction was brief, he became keenly aware of a softer emotion that was laced in her gaze. He couldn't entirely discern if it was anger, or something deeper. Could it have been hurt?

Though she had quickly turned away, the expression in her eyes had given him pause. He seemed to have trouble understanding the source of her hurt, doubtful was he of its cause. Thane had ruled out the possibility of Shepard actually being wounded by what the asari had suggested. He had previously cataloged her as the type who wouldn't give a second thought to such superficial matters. In their small amount of time together, she had all but proven to be rough and brash, and didn't seem to care about what others thought of it.

An unlucky pedestrian cried out when Shepard elbowed her way past, and her heavy footsteps warded off those who dared to wander any closer.

He decided to stand by his assumption.

But Thane couldn't deny that her behavior had perplexed him. She was irrational and quick to recklessness, yes, but he found himself curious of this deeper layer of her personality, that he had only caught glimpses of. He had previously avoided working with a companion, adopting the lone wolf approach, and years ago he surely would not have agreed to team with someone as hot-headed as Shepard. Her being human only heightened his uncertainty at wading through unfamiliar territory. But when one was so near to the throes of death, any previous motivations undergo certain change.

And he would be dishonest with himself if he did not admit that he found her... rambunctious nature, rather curious.

So he put to rest the rising doubts of his earlier decision to join her, and settled on simply observing her actions for a time. As he would observe an assassination target, so he would settle into old habits and mentally examine all findings of his charge. Shepard was as foreign as the depths of the Kahje ocean to him, and he found himself startled by the compulsion to learn more about her base tendencies, and how she operated.

He suppressed the curious urge for now, however, as there still was business to attend to.

He felt a tug at his arm, and looked at the asari merchant who now gripped the material of his coat. Her lips were set in a tight line as she peered at him expectantly. "Drell. You can do something about this can't you? Maybe you can talk some sense into your partner, because I surely can't afford the damages without-"

"Then perhaps you should begin the search for other employment options," was all Thane said as he turned away to follow Shepard. Easily weaving through the crowd, he quickly caught up to the Commander as she pushed through with less grace. She was tapping repeatedly at her activated omni-tool, mumbling under her breath. She wasn't aware of his presence as she dissected the device, at times sighing in annoyance as her fingers phased through the holographic interface under her heavy touch. Thane watched her for a moment as they walked toward the staircase leading to the Eternity lounge.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own Thane Krios or any of Mass Effect

**Update?: ****Crazy how I cut a whole chapter in half and it's still too damn long. I'm still learning as I go, and so far I have learned that I need to keep my word count in check.**

**Anyways, old readers, this is the second half of Chapter 3. Feel free to skip. New readers, carry on.**

* * *

"Are the day's events finally taking their toll?"

Shepard grunted in surprise, whipping around immediately to face him. She tried to mask the surprise in her expression unsuccessfully, squaring her shoulders back to seem unaffected. "Didn't I say to stop doing that?" She shook her head, minimizing the omni-tool. "Never mind. The comm link is still turned off. I swear I'm going to beat the biotic snot out of her."

"Doubtful," was all Thane said as he turned to gaze at the passing scenery.

"What do you mean by that?" Shepard narrowed her eyes.

"That would be an unwise decision on your part, for two reasons: Jack would fight back, and you have stated multiple times how she is vital to this mission. Though," he turned to her again, regarding her with amusement in his gaze. "I doubt that you would actually carry out your threats."

"Are you implying that I'm all talk."

"Not necessarily. I simply think that you would be more wise than what you are currently letting on."

Shepard frowned in confusion, her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to come back with a retort. She appeared to fluctuate between anger and puzzlement at the backhanded compliment, before she finally threw her hands up in defeat. "Let's just go, we don't have time for this nonsense," she said, as she turned on her heel.

They began their trek up the staircase. Thane took one step at a time, his feet lightly padding up the stairs as Shepard raced ahead of him.

She reached the last step, placing a hand on her hip as she regarded him in silence. She sighed softly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This day was a mess. I'm heading to the lounge for a drink. Do whatever you... do." And with that, Shepard headed in the direction of the lounge without any notice for Thane.

He peered down the length of the staircase, his pearly gaze shifting through the narrow corridor. A flash of blue edged from the corner of his vision, and he silently tracked the movement. The abrupt splash of colour flitted from his vision, and he peered at the spot where it resided only seconds before. Thane bowed his head, and began to head in the direction of the Eternity Lounge.

Entering the corridor leading into Eternity sent waves of familiarity washing over his form. He suddenly recalled various nights on Nos Astra spent with a willowy asari, unwinding from the day's events by indulging in saturated beverages at the bar.

Her hands would roam over his, her touch caressing and soft. Her low whispering in his ear carried enticing propositions, promising that guilt and regret would be left at a closed door, forgotten.

He would allow himself to be guided down dim alley ways as the asari chattered on, her intoxicating perfume seemingly wafting from her pores.

He could still recall the taste of sweat and musk lingering in the air as her arm was strung lazily over his chest in the dim light of dawn. She delivered on her promise. Worry, grief, rage-dark sentiments that were quickly forgotten in the throes of passion.

They returned. They always did. The darkness nestled inside of him would remain until the day he perished, which would not be a long ways away. It would briefly venture away, when Thane assumed his daily meditations, but the darkness would always be waiting at the door of his consciousness.

He would leave the asari, his motions quiet and deliberate, as she watched him dress. He would bow his head to her, and make his way out of her dark apartment. And soon he would find himself in this very corridor that held the entrance to Eternity, hidden in the shadows as he scoped out his next assigned target.

Thane blankly stared into the shadows, the short memory drifting away into darkness. Thumping and loud chattering sounded from beyond the wall, vibrating beneath the soles of his feet. He inhaled softly, smoothing out a crease in his collar before heading toward the door.

Heated wasps of artificial smoke wafted into his lungs as he entered, the odor of perspiration and alcohol heavy in the room. To his right were tables occupied by small groupings of travelers, each with an asari twirling lithely above them. The dancer closest to where he stood batted thickly lined eyelashes at him, her lips curling in a half smile. Thane nodded to her respectfully, before turning away to face the bar.

Shepard leaned precariously close to the edge of the bar top. Her elbow was propped up, the palm of her hand cupping her chin as she gazed bleakly at the nearby wall. She didn't seem to notice Thane's approach, or if she did, she didn't acknowledge him.

The bartender gave him a quick once over, apparently sizing him up. "Drell, huh? We get a lot of your kind over here. I guess that's due to the sweat and smoke sucking up all the moisture in the air-which is perfect for you guys, I hear."

Thane clasped his fingers beneath his jaw as he peered at the asari, the corner of his lips pulling up faintly. "For the most part. Though I could do without the smell."

"Hah! The rest of em' would bitch and moan about that, too. Drell have the snobbiest noses in the galaxy, I swear." The asari bartender smiled and gestured to the drink selection. "So what'll you be having tonight, doll?"

Thane felt Shepard's gaze boring into him, her fingers clasped around her own glass which contained a honey coloured beverage. He lightly massaged the scaled flesh of his chin, considering his answer before speaking. "I will have what she is drinking," Thane said, motioning to Shepard's glass of wine.

The bartender glanced at Shepard, and shifted her gaze to Thane. She hummed lowly, nodding as she entered the transaction into the terminal and set the drink near Thane. "You two have fun, yell if you need anything," her gruff voice stated as she turned away.

They sat in long moments of silence. Raucous laughter and incoherent blathering continued around them, mingling with the heavy bass that thumped from the hidden sound system. The noise seemed artificial and forced, intruding into the silence between Shepard and Thane. Neon colours reflected off the leather fabric of Thane's jacket, highlighted in the golden setting of the bar. Other patrons near the bar wore leather, though of a decidedly lesser quality, and stunk of sweat and alcohol.

Shepard stared ahead, her eyes down-turned and lightly glazed. Thane sipped his drink in slow gulps, keenly aware of the numerous bodies that brushed past him. The balmy liquid washed warmly over his tongue, sweet and soothing. Asari produced wine always held a tinge of savored honey; it was wise not to over indulge lest the wine lose its novelty.

The stool Shepard was seated on creaked as she adjusted her weight, turning to face him. She eyed him deliberately, watching his webbed fingers stretch over the thin glass as he sipped the wine. "Good stuff, isn't it?"

Thane met her gaze, her dark eyes subtly clouded with the influence of alcohol. He nodded, setting the still full glass in front of him.

"You don't strike me as the over indulgent type," she continued, her fingers stiffly wrapped around the glass's stem. "I figured you would ask for water. I mean... drell can still drink water, right?" Her brows furrowed as she leaned forward, unusually curious.

"Of course. Drell do not require water's nutrition as much as humans do, but we can consume it."

She nodded slowly, and turned to face ahead. Several moments passed, the chattering of a couple behind them growing obscenely loud. It was difficult to tune them out, as a male voice prattled on in an effort to hit on his quarian companion. An unsuccessful attempt it seemed, from how quickly she deflected his advances.

It was odd to be in such a small space with so many people hovering about at once. Thane's shoulders were stiff as patrons brushed against him, their laughter obnoxious and loud under the influence of alcohol. Though he only faced ahead, his awareness was keen to the various sounds of noise as more people passed through the bar. He hoped that Shepard would be inclined to leave soon. Thane simply was not the type to linger at bars and mingle with the crowd, unless it was absolutely necessary. His fingers gripped the wine glass tighter.

"You're not... uncomfortable here, are you?" Shepard asked suddenly as she peered at him, uncertainty in her expression.

Thane regarded her silently for a moment, contemplating on whether to answer honestly. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "We're at a bar. You're supposed to relax."

"I am relaxed."

Shepard snorted. "Right. And I'm an elcor prostitute," she shook her head, running her fingers over the rim of her glass. "I see that your definition of 'relaxed' isn't exactly the same as everyone else's. So, you going to answer my question?"

Thane exhaled softly, pressing his thumb against the glass as he spoke. "Truthfully, this is... an experience. I usually would be high above such a crowd as this, set up on the rafters as I scoped out my target. Never mixing with the crowd itself, as I seem to be doing now."

She frowned. "What, so have you never been to a party?"

"In my younger years. When I was still rebellious and carefree," he replied. She leaned in closer, struggling to hear him over the pounding music.

"What changed?" she said as she took a sip of her beverage.

He did not mention Irikah. "I realized that my expertise was only in reconnaissance, subterfuge, stealth and assassinations-not minute social gatherings."

She rolled her eyes in response. "So you're not a people person-I think I've gathered that. You need to lighten up, though. Drink more of that wine."

He bowed his head, peering at the drink clasped in his hands. Her statement had given him pause. "Tell me," Thane began, and Shepard turned to face him, her expression mild. "Do humans often seek liquor in the event of stress or anger?"

She frowned briefly, attempting to discern his phrasing. She then chuckled gruffly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she looked down at her glass. "And is this because I told you to drink more?"

"No. Only simple curiosity," Thane replied, not really meaning his answer. He knew she didn't believe it either, from the way her gaze sharply cut to him. But she nodded nonetheless.

"Sometimes," was all she said.

Thane regarded her, watching as she leaned over the counter and gulped down her wine. "Do you?"

Shepard opened one eye, her lips still folded over the rim of the glass. She considered him for a moment, narrowing her gaze. "Of course not. This here is just a random act of hedonism," she spoke into the half empty glass, her words slurring slightly. "No attempts of drowning stress and anxiety in liquor, not here, no sirree."

She sat up then, and faced him fully, attempting to wink. Though instead of winking, both of her eyes only managed to twitch at separate times.

"I see..." was all Thane said as he looked at her carefully.

She huffed suddenly, annoyed. "Can you not do that?"

Thane inclined his head, waiting for her to deliberate. She gestured widely at him, giving him an expectant look. When there was no response, she sighed. "Stare so much. I'm not that interesting to look at."

Thane blinked, regarding her in silence for several moments. She frowned in annoyance, pursing her lips. "See, now you're just doing it on purpose."

A small sound of amusement slid from Thane's lips. Shepard looked at him curiously, her eyes fixated on the faint smile that now decorated his features. "Don't stop doing that, though. Smiling fits you."

Thane pondered her statement, lowering his gaze. "As it does for you," was all he said, and he looked away from her.

The sound of Shepard loudly gulping down wine resumed, as did the music and laughter in the bar. Oddly enough, just moments before the noise around them seemed muted. Almost as if it had faded while they had faced each other.

Asari made wine certainly had a strong effect, indeed.

"Today didn't go as well as it could have," Shepard stated suddenly. Thane's fingers crept down the stem of his glass as he gazed at the honey coloured beverage, waiting for her to continue. "Barging into problems worked well enough before," she said, shrugging.

Thane remained silent. He felt her eyes on his form, considering and thoughtful. "You may have been onto something, with some of the suggestions you gave earlier."

He finally turned to face her, suppressing his smile as she stuttered, contemplating her next words. "I... pretty much ignored your suggestions," she said, swallowing slowly. She ran a hand through her hair, rubbing at the crown of her head as she looked at him almost sheepishly. "Well, I mean, I usually get things right, so..."

Thane stood up, suddenly, setting his empty glass on the bar counter. He looked at her, his amusement barely concealed. "I understand, Shepard. And I accept your apology. Shall we resume the search?"

She considered him briefly, and she nodded and stood up at well. Her expression was absolute. "Hell yeah. I've cooked up a few ideas for the punishment that's gonna be waiting for Jack. That don't involve a biotic beat down, as you have so kindly warned me against earlier." Her lips lifted in a crooked smile at her last statement.

"And what do you have in mind," Thane asked, genuinely curious.

Shepard began walking out of the bar, Thane falling into step beside her. "Well, one of my plans include sending her and Miranda on multiple scouting missions that require heavy amounts of teamwork."

"Would that not be just as much punishment for the Officer, as well?"

Shepard paused, frowning. "Hm, that's... true," she then shrugged, stepping forward. "It'll build crew morale. That's the story and I'll stick to it. They'll both end up hating me and will probably attempt to murder me if we survive this whole suicide mission, but oh well."

Shepard looked up at him, narrowing her eyes as she thought. "So. You got any ideas of where Jack might be, anyway?"

Thane looked to the door, his expression unreadable. The table full of salarians and turians whooped and hollered as the dancer stretched her shape in a very flexible position. He turned back to Shepard, nodding just barely. "I do have a few ideas."

She considered him for a few moments, and then smiled sharply. "Well, what are you waiting for? Lead on.

"Oh, and uh... don't tell anyone that I.. apologized. If you do, I might have to down a few drinks to drown out Garrus' laughter," she muttered. Thane nodded in acknowledgment, pulling at the collar of his jacket. "And hey, speaking of drinks-how did you finish your glass so quickly? I hardly saw you take a sip..."

* * *

The asari bartender watched the pair head toward the exit as she scrubbed the bar counter with a wet rag. The human woman looked up at the drell, the confused expression she wore plain as day. The drell blinked at her, his lips moving in a slow rhythm. The bartender shook her head, muttering under her breath as she turned to face another customer.

* * *

Shepard made a surprised sound when she followed the direction Thane motioned to. She turned to gape at Thane, her mouth working to come up with a semi-intelligent response. Her shoulders drooped, as she looked at the spot where Thane pointed to, and back to Thane. "How did you know?"

Jack stood in plain sight on the skyway, her shaved head highlighted in the moonlight. She was talking with an asari, but her stance indicated aggression as her arms moved in erratic gestures.

Thane met Shepard's bewildered gaze, folding his hands behind his back as he stood straighter. "I tracked her movements as soon as she left us."

She stared at him blankly, slack jawed. She didn't even frown, or yell as Thane had thought she would. No, her initial reaction was subdued, dejected even. Upon hearing this news, Shepard slumped as if their mission was now the only thing keeping her up and moving about. It was not the response he was expecting.

"Why," was all she said, her tone tired. "Why did we waste an entire day on a wild goose chase."

Thane paused, for a moment confused about what chasing a so-called 'goose' had any relevance to their current situation, but continued. "I wanted to assess your ability to locate and pinpoint targets, and accordingly adjust my skills to compensate," he stated simply, before gripping his chin in a contemplative gesture. "I will have to compensate often it seems."

Shepard's eyes narrowed, her fingers tapping against her hip in an agitated motion. "We could have done a test run, or-" she sighed then, shaking her head as she turned away from him. "Ah, forget it. I just want to get back on the ship and sleep the rest of this cycle away. Justicar be damned."

Thane didn't follow immediately as Shepad headed in the direction of Jack, who had taken a step toward the asari. Shepard yelled out the convict's name, waving for her attention. Jack did a double take as she approached, before turning back to the asari. "Shepard? It's about damn time you two showed up; I was getting bored of robbing people," she said as Thane made his way over to the three women.

"Oh, so you were getting bor-wait, what?!" Shepard exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips as she regarded Jack reproachfully.

The asari stepped forward suddenly, imposing her presence. Passerby eyed her cautiously, making an effort to avoid the boldly dressed creature. Her large eyes met Shepard's with composed poise, her expression neutral compared to Jack's sneering visage. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Justicar Samara, and I am here to apprehend this criminal."

"I'd die before I let some asari bitch drag me back to Purgatory," Jack snarled, her fingers curling into a fist at her hip.

"You leave me no choice, then," the Justicar replied as she advanced toward Jack.

"Stop with the melodramatics. There won't be any fighting if I have any say about it, " Shepard said, interjecting between the two. She wore a hard expression as she looked between Jack and the asari. "You're the Justicar? We came here today looking for you-"

"Get out of the way, Shepard! This is none of your business," Jack said, balling up her fists.

"Then I'll make it my business. And from the looks of a Justicar, I'd say I'm damn well in the right," Shepard stated, and turned to face the asari. "I'm not in the mood, so make it quick."

The Justicar didn't immediately speak, regarding Shepard solemnly. Shepard met her intent stare, her arms crossed over her chest. "Do not overstep your boundaries, human," the Justicar stated coolly as she faced Shepard fully. "Your charge appeared to be blackmailing merchants and robbing shopkeepers. I must act as my Code dictates," the Justicar stated, staunch in her position.

"Yeah, that's the same bullshit line she's been giving me. Look, just stay out of this one, Shepard. This could be a fun fight," Jack said, her voice lowering menacingly as she braced a fighting position. A taunting smile crossed Jack's features when the Justicar turned, her azure fists clenching as the unmistakable charge of biotic power cracked through the dense air.

"Does no one listen to me anymore," Shepard shook her head, looking in Thane's direction. His eyes met her annoyed gaze, her mouth set in a tight line. He observed the scene for a few tense moments longer, before turning back to Shepard. "A Justicar adheres solely to the Code, and the Code usually dictates that matters of justice be solved in blood," he said, though she had never requested his advice.

Shepard shook her head, her brows scrunching together. "What the hell kind of insane-look, Samara you can't do this. I won't allow you to. This is a critical mission, and I need both of you alive if we have any hope of succeeding," Shepard said, once again putting herself in between the two powerful biotics.

Samara narrowed her eyes. "I do not appreciate being told what I can or cannot do. I am sorry, but this request for recruitment will not precede this one's punishment-"

"I'll handle it. She is my... charge, as you called her. Sort of. So it's my responsibility," Shepard bluffed, not really knowing what she was saying. Throwing out any statement that could appease the Justicar seemed like the best option.

The Justicar considered Shepard's words, still facing Jack, her cold stare unrelenting. Jack returned the look, her full lips pursed. The seconds ticked by as they stood, civilians warily avoiding the odd group. The light breeze brushed against Shepard's face, ruffling her hair. She looked to each woman, annoyed at having to be the peacemaker.

The Justicar stepped back, bowing her head stiffly. "Very well. I do not want to see her without your specific accompaniment. But I will not re-negotiate. The punishment shall fit the crime, and eventually justice will be carried out against your companion."

"Yeah, we'll see, won't we?" Jack taunted, puffing out her chest defiantly. Her eyes glinted fiercely, her arms crossed over her chest as she regarded the Justicar.

"Whatever," Shepard said, waving a hand dismissively before the tension could escalate further. She faced the Justicar. "But I do have business with you. It's urgent."

"I have my own business that must be attended to, stranger. I am in the middle of an investigation, and I cannot leave it be. I am sorry," Samara stated, regarding Shepard with detachment.

Shepard ran a hand through her hair. "Did I mention that the Collectors have been abducting entire human colonies, and that we'll be going up against them?"

This gave Samara pause. She bowed her crowned head briefly, considering Shepard's statement. "Your proposition has captured my interest; the Collectors would prove to be a worthy adversary. But as I have said before, I cannot assist you until my investigation is over. Once it is finished, then I will be able.

I shall be at the police station until further notice... Shepard."

The Justicar casted one last cautionary look toward Jack before walking away. Jack peered in the asari's direction as she shrugged indifferently. "Can't wait to get off of this planet. I've met enough snobby asari to last a lifetime. Don't know how I managed to avoid choking that one."

When her statement was met only with a reproachful glare, she looked to Shepard. "What?"

"Is that all you have to say? We've been looking for you all this time!" Shepard eyed the convict, her voice shrill and tight as she scolded Jack. "You never ditch the squad. At least keep the damn comm link open."

Jack scowled, throwing up her hands in agitation. "How could you expect me to stay with you two?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Jack huffed, gesturing widely to Thane and Shepard. "The tension was so high you could slice it with a shockwave. No way was I hanging around any of that, so I left," she said simply. "And from the looks of it, whatever bad blood between you two has been solved, hasn't it? So it's a win-win for all of us. Except for those shopkeepers, but then who really cares for those schmucks?"

"Jack-"

"Oh, come on, Shepard," she groaned, glaring at the Commander. "This place was begging for me to cause a little mayhem. And I've been a good girl for you and your crew, haven't I? We're even."

Shepard exhaled heavily. Her eyebrows twitched as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She stared blankly at Jack, and it was clear that her energy from the day was spent. "No. No, we are not even. Just... head back to the Normandy. We'll meet the Justicar later on. After I take a nap."

Jack shrugged and stretched her arms over her head, joints popping, as she turned on her heel. Thane stepped forward to stand near Shepard, finally imposing his presence.

"Being the Commander seems... stressful," Thane said, his brow ridges furrowed as he stared after Jack.

Shepard snorted with derision, cracking her knuckles. "Yeah, you don't say," she replied as she headed toward the docking bay. Thane fell into step beside her, his gaze turned toward the rising Illium moon. Nos Astra nights were never this peaceful for long. He should be one to know.

Shepard's comm beeped suddenly, intruding on the pause of silence that fell upon the two. She activated the comm link, throwing one last suspicious glance in Jack's direction as the tattooed woman turned the corner into the shuttle bay.

"Miranda."

"Shepard. Has the Justicar been located?" Miranda's level voice filtered from the omni-tool.

Shepard scratched the tip of her nose, peering in the direction Samara headed. "You could say that. We also located Jack."

Miranda didn't immediately respond, and Shepard cleared her throat. "Jack was gone? For the whole day?" Another pause. "And this is why I recommended that we install tracking devices..."

An impatient exhale sounded from the comm, and Shepard could already imagine the Cerberus Officer shaking her head in irritation. "This proves it further: she is completely unreliable. I knew this, the rest of the crew knew this, and Shepard, you should have known this as well."

Shepard's fingers hovered over the switch to the comm link. She had half a mind to shut it off, saving herself from the full lecture. "Drop it, Lawson. I will deal with the situation." She was too tired to appropriately reprimand Miranda's insubordination, though she supposed Jack was enough punishment for the day.

The patronizing tone faded from Miranda's voice when she spoke again. "Shepard...," she hesitated, "you don't sound well. Maybe you should take a few minutes off aboard the ship, and go on from there." And with that, the link clicked off with a beep.

Shepard rolled her shoulders back, stretching out the stiff joints. She had the peculiar feeling of eyes boring into her back, and she turned to face Thane who was, sure enough, gazing at her pensively. She often caught him looking at her like that.

"Something you want to say?" she nodded toward him expectantly.

His gaze trailed to the side as he contemplated his response, clasping his hands behind his back. "I have made several observations after being in your company for this time."

"And?"

He kept pace with her, his head inclined in her direction. "Have you ever considered meditation?"

She stretched languidly, linking her fingers at the back of her head. "And why have your 'observations' led to this particular suggestion?"

"You do not hide your fatique as well as you think."

Shepard harrumphed, turning away from him as she walked ahead. The crowd had dispersed somewhat throughout the day, as not many civilians were in such a rush as they maneuvered through the skyway. "So says you. But alright, I'll play along. Maybe-and it's a very small maybe-if I was actually interested in meditation, how would it work? I don't see how much good it could do for someone like me."

"Much more than you know, Shepard. Meditation can serve a purpose beyond rest, and that is of a mental and physical cleansing."

"Isn't it difficult to get into the state of mind? Especially in my kind of work?"

His lips lifted in a brief smile. "Not at all. Slipping in and out of meditation is simple, even for the most prone to distraction." He faced the moon. "All it takes it imagining the cool rays of the moonlight enfolding you in its grasp, or the expanse of the dark desert sea washing over your form." He turned back to her. "My people have practiced the art of meditation since our inception, so that may be why it comes easier to me than other species. I could teach you, if you wish."

She regarded him blankly, clearly not understanding a lick of what he was saying. "Yeah, thanks for the offer, and it sounds nice and all, but do you really think I have time to rest? What with all that's happening?"

"I would say that this is the most appropriate time to meditate, Shepard. Even amongst the greatest tribulation can we find peace."

She sighed, beating her fist against her armored thigh. "That sounds like a nice ideal. But people in my position can't really afford to relax often."

"If a dying man can find time to rest, then so can you, Shepard."


	6. Chapter 6

__Disclaimer: Don't own Thane or anything from Mass Effect.

So this is the **real** update, finally! The storyline is still progressing like normal, continuing from the last chapter where Thane and Shepard finally met the Justicar, and captured (er, found) Jack.

Thanks goes to my betas.

* * *

_Well... that's new._

Shepard crossed her arms, trying not to give away too much of her suprise as Samara stood up. The asari's form still glowed faintly with the remnants of biotic energy.

"I've never seen a Justicar make an oath like _that,_" Detective Anaya murmured from beside Shepard, looking before the scene with rapt attention.

It _was_ pretty fancy stuff. Maybe she'll ask Samara to teach her some tricks one of these days. If they survive the whole suicide mission, of course.

"I will abide by your wishes for as long as I remain under oath. If you make any reprehensible choices however, I will not hesitate to kill you once our mission is complete," Samara said, tipping her crowned head toward Shepard.

Shepard shrugged. "Sounds reasonable enough. I'll meet you aboard the ship near the trading floor, and we'll go over arrangements for your living quarters." And with business finally concluded, she turned on her heel and began to head out of the police station.

"Wait. Shepard," she heard Samara call. Shepard paused, turning to look at Samara expectantly. What was it now? Time was of the essence. There were fish to feed in her cabin, after all. "There is a matter of significance that I must address," Samara said.

Shepard blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing. "I—okay. What is it?"

"Your drell companion will be aboard the ship," she stated. It was less a question and more an observance of fact, Samara's expressionless face focused intently on Shepard. She found it odd that the asari didn't directly acknowledge Thane's presence as he stood only a few feet away, gazing at a non-descript area of the office.

"Yes?" Shepard frown deepened in confusion. She crossed her arms, waiting for Samara to continue.

Samara turned to face Thane directly, her attention on Shepard seemingly disappearing, even though the asari still spoke to her. "I do not agree with your decision to house an assassin aboard your ship, Shepard, nor a ruthless convict."

Jack was long gone after that last debacle, yet the memory was clearly still fresh in Samara's mind. Couldn't people learn to just let some things go? Shepard tapped her fingers against her hip impatiently, glancing at Thane who remained calm, as always. He met Samara's gaze without a hint of reaction in his eyes.

She looked back to Samara who faced Thane, and they both all but ignored Shepard's presence. She exhaled harshly, annoyed at feeling disregarded. "He's not going anywhere. And I would rather this not turn into another Jack situation," Shepard said. "So I'll repeat what I said the first time we met: I need Thane here just as much as I need you-"

"Do not speak for me, Shepard," Thane interjected, finally giving some type of reaction. He inclined his head toward Samara. "You have concerns, Justicar?"

Samara stepped away from Detective Anaya's desk, sauntering away from Shepard and Thane. "I do. You are, in fact, an assassin for hire?"

"In a way, yes. Does that create a problem?"

"You kill for money. Not for justice. I find that to be a problem," Samara stated, her posture rigid as she slowly circled the small office, her gaze pinned on Thane. "Assassins care not for whom their target may be, but so long as there are credits awaiting the completion of your duty. Do you never wonder if there are innocent lives being targeted for the self-indulging reasons of your contractor?"

Thane clasped his hands behind his back, his form completely relaxed. If he had actually given any reaction of being offended, Shepard sure as hell couldn't tell. Though, she noticed that he didn't react as curtly as he had during their own talk in life support. The realization confused her, but then so did everything about the drell, it seemed. "Do you not ever wonder if those you bring to justice do great evils for even greater goods? Or perhaps that they are not as guilty as you may think?" he retorted.

"There is no doubt," Samara said, taking long, slow strides with her arms hovering at her sides. "A man guilty of murder is just as guilty as the woman who steals a ship in the outer rim. There cannot be any uncertainty in such matters. Justice does not provide mercy to the unjust."

Though neither had raised their voices, the tension in the air was palpable. If Shepard didn't know any better, they might have been having a civil discussion about the weather. The two most well-mannered and well-controlled killers in the galaxy, as far as Shepard knew, and it slightly unnerved her to imagine what a "real" disagreement between them would be like.

Thane unclasped his hands from behind his back, his form straightening. "My work should bear no weight on your conscious, Justicar. What I do now is not the same as what I did before. I am atoning for my sins in the best way I am capable."

"Atonement can only be acquired when you submit to your crimes and allow justice to be extracted upon you," Samara said, coming to a stop several feet before him.

Thane smiled wryly. "I believe that I _am_ paying a higher justice for my sins, Justicar."

A silence fell upon the office, as the two paused in their brief dispute. Officer Anaya had watched the interaction with interest, her eyes darting between Samara and Thane. Shepard didn't want to intrude on their conversation, as she didn't really have a clear opinion for either side.

Before, she had believed highly in pursuing justice with all cause, that the ends would justify the means, no matter the cost. It was easy to ignore the gray areas, wise even in her profession, as thinking over every single possibility would only jeopardize a mission. The only objective that mattered was to preserve as many innocent lives as possible, and if it weren't possible, then one had to make the tense decision of sacrificing for the greater good. It was a simple life philosophy, if harsh. But Shepard knew what she signed on for.

But then Shepard died. And she became saddled with a mission that defied all others in its importance. She had to search in other arenas, to recruit the best talent the galaxy had to offer, even if they weren't her first choice in another life. Assassins, convicts, mercs. Matters were not as streamlined as before. When she was with the Alliance, she had grouped the type of people she traveled with now as the 'bad guys,' and had carried on without a concern.

But as she spent more time with the 'bad guys,' her previously black and white views had become muddled with gray. Before she had hunted assassins and the like with cold intent, and never would have imagined lowering her standards enough to be near one, let alone work with him. Before everything that happened, before Torfan, she was...

Shepard shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts before her mind wandered into the familiar territory of regret. She wouldn't dwell on the past. At least not now.

She heard Officer Anaya clear her throat, and realized that the room was still draped in silence. She looked up to see both Thane and Samara staring at her expectantly. Oh. They were waiting on her cue.

"Well. I'm glad to see that you two are getting on," Shepard said, clearing her throat. "I for one, am sure you will fit in aboard the _Normandy_, Samara. It'll help to have a Justicar on board—now my lunch won't be stolen from the mess hall as often."

Samara blinked. "My recruitment is not a matter to be taken in jest, Shepard. I am only here to fulfill my oath by completing your mission."

"Right, right," Shepard sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, time to head out then."

* * *

"Sounds like you have your hands full," Dr. Chakwas said.

Shepard snorted, tugging at the stiff fabric of the medical dress she wore. "Yeah, you could say that again. Between an assassin and a Justicar, I think I've gathered quite the merry band of misfits."

"If you would have told me two years ago that you would go on to get such an unlikely group together—I would have believed you."

Shepard's lips lifted in a half grin as she adjusted her position on the medical bed, her face pressed against the head rest. "You see, Doc, this is why I go to you. You're like my own personal cheerleader. Mordin would have just said something about the chances of food contamination because of all the different digestive systems on board."

Dr. Chakwas smiled as she guided the overhead beam over the back of Shepard's skull. "I'm flattered. But I do have a concern over these upgrades you bought."

"What is it?" Shepard sighed, her fingers drumming along the firm bed.

"Are you absolutely certain that these are legitimate? I've never come across biotic upgrades that were so cheap," Dr. Chakwas hummed, inspecting the small chip with gloved fingers.

Shepard scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Now you sound like Thane."

"Well, if so, then Thane has the right of mind. Did you check the credentials of the merchant who sold you these upgrades?"

Shepard balled her fist against the padding of the medical bed. She sat up, twisting her head around to look at Chakwas. The light of the overhead beam stung her eyes for a moment, before she could fully see the doctor. Chakwas eyed the chip suspiciously, holding it over a nearby waste terminal as if she were ready to dispose of it at any moment. "Yes, I did. Now will you complete the surgery?" Shepard said.

Dr. Chakwas shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "You should know better than to lie to me, Shepard. You're terrible at it."

Shepard tossed her blunt bangs out of her eyes as she squinted at the doctor, the overhead light still shining in her vision. "I'm a grown woman, Chakwas. I can handle it. We're getting closer to nailing the Collectors, I can feel it. We don't have time to debate over supplies; I need that chip to be the best I can be."

Dr. Chakwas didn't react at first. Her green eyes scanned Shepard's face for a considerable moment, the older woman's brows furrowed. Shepard's stare was just as stern, her lips set in a tight line. Seeing that Shepard wouldn't budge, Chakwas sighed. She reached for the table where the syringe lay, filled with the sedative that would put Shepard to sleep for the minor surgery.

"Hold still," Dr. Chakwas said as she pushed on the syringe handle, pumping the injection into Shepard's blood. "I swear, Commander, your recklessness will get the better of you someday."

"Then I'll deal with it, someday," Shepard said as she closed her eyes, the sedation quickly taking effect.

* * *

Shepard wobbled slightly as she walked past the ship elevator. She cursed the grogginess that always seemed to linger after an implant upgrade. Her reflexes were still a bit sluggish after receiving the new bio-amp, and it would take at least a day to become fully accustomed to the transition. And the occasional aches from post-surgery weren't making things any better.

She was _supposed_ to be lying down in the med-bay, under the watchful eye of Dr. Chakwas. But the good doctor had made the foolish mistake of going to the restroom. Shepard had easily escaped.

She now found herself facing the life support door, and instinctively went inside, shrugging to herself. She had some time to spare.

Thane didn't turn as she entered the room, gingerly sipping at the coffee clutched in his hands. His attention was focused ahead, staring out of the only window toward the drive core, its wisps of electricity crackling silently from beyond the glass. Shepard eyed the back of his patterned head, waiting for him to make some type of reaction. She sniffed, unfazed, when he didn't. "So this is how you pass the time? Staring at the drive core and drinking that dull coffee from the mess hall?"

Thane looked up at her finally, a half smile playing at his lips. "It is when I expect to be interrupted by another's presence. Such as yourself."

Was that... a joke? Odd. Shepard decided to go along with it. "And here I thought you would have been happy to see me."

Thane motioned to the chair opposite him. As Shepard moved to sit, her balance faltered slightly, her knees nearly buckling in. She quickly sat down before she could fall. Maybe she should have stayed in the med-bay after all. Thane looked at her curiously, his gaze roving over her face. "You seem weary. Perhaps you should head to the medical bay?"

She scowled. "Now you'restarting to sound like _Chakwas. _I'm fine."

Thane bowed his head, his fingers clasped around the coffee mug. "I see. Then is there something you needed, Shepard?"

Shepard paused. She _could_ say that she was in life support for official business, but in reality, she only walked in here to escape the med-bay. But why did she even come to this room anyway? Her quarters would have been just as ideal... if not farther away.

"I wanted to learn more about you," it wasn't exactly a lie; she had been curious about the drell since first meeting. "Things didn't end so well after our last talk."

Thane leaned back in his seat slightly, nodding. "And is there something specific you wanted to learn?" he asked.

She thought for a moment before finally settling on an answer. "Tell me about Kahje. I don't think a drell would really like looking out a window and seeing nothing but water for miles."

"You would be mostly correct in your assumption," he answered, adjusting his body weight in the seat. "There were... artificial scenery placements. Portraits. Of Rakhana, and of other random desert planets. The hanar were very respectful of my people's background, and even constructed blueprints for indoor landscapes. They tried to emulate Rakhana as closely as possible."

"But it wasn't enough, was it," Shepard stated, pushing down a sudden wave of nausea as she felt herself sway in the chair. She was definitely heading back to the med-bay soon.

"No. It wasn't," he leaned in closer. "Are you certain that you are well, Shepard?"

She waved him off. "Stop that, I'm the Commander—I worry over my crew. It's not supposed to be the opposite."

Thane's lips parted, as if he were going to retort, but apparently thought different of it. "As you wish."

Silence. He brought the coffee mug to his lips again, and the steam wafted over the rim of the cup. She watched his throat work as he swallowed the liquid, and looked away. Suddenly there was a very interesting smudge on the desktop.

"It's kind of like the Citadel. Kahje, I mean," she spoke abruptly. The dark pools of his eyes bore into her own as she looked up again. "The architects wanted it to be a friendly zone, a haven for all species, and I suppose they succeeded. Still doesn't beat Mindoir though."

"You weren't born on Earth?"

"No, Mindoir is... was my home. I think it's better looking than Earth. Humans haven't been on the planet for as long as Earth, so we haven't completed fucked up it up yet. Waterfalls and forests that go on for days, and wild animals are abundant. The people aren't so bad either," she bowed her head in remembrance, her lips curving into a sad smile.

"It sounds very pleasant."

"It is."

There was that silence again. Shepard cleared her throat, just to hear some kind of noise in the small room.

"So, anyway, back to you," she wracked her brain for something to talk about. She wasn't entirely sure why she didn't just cut the conversation short and walk out. It's not like she was afraid of being rude. But then, she also wasn't sure on why he didn't simply kick her out, either. "You mentioned an oath before. For the hanar. What did you do for them exactly?"

"The Compact. An agreement made by my parents. I have been under oath since I was six years old."

"You mean under contract," Shepard frowned. "Why would the hanar need a six year old to kill people for them?"

"I did not kill until I was 12, Shepard. And every species utilizes the skills of an assassin. The next time you see a hanar, you will understand. They have a strong grip and natural toxins, but have you ever seen one fire a gun?"

"But you were still a child, they could have found someone else who was older and more suited for the job."

"You misunderstand me, Shepard," Thane's tone became subdued as he bowed his head, his fingers loosely clutching the handle of the coffee mug. "I was never a tool for the hanar; I was valued as a person."

She scoffed. "So you say. Why did your parents' even agree to this 'Compact?' "

"As I mentioned in our last conversation, the hanar saved my species from extinction. It is a debt that can never be repaid fully, so we do what we can to honour their show of mercy. To personally work with the hanar garners great respect among my people."

"But you don't kill for the hanar, anymore. When I met you, you were working freelance. What changed?"

"I was asleep for a long time, yes. I let my body act on its own accord, paying no attention of what I was asked to do. But then-"

Thane's demeanor switched so suddenly that Shepard jumped in her seat. She thought he was having some type of internal attack, from the way his form stood paralyzed and his hooded eyes darted to and fro, strings of red creeping near his pupils. It was as if he were under some type of trance, unblinking and convulsive. He was muttering words too quickly for her to catch, as if he were narrating a book, or a vid with the fast-forward button held down.

She only caught a few words: something about a trembling laser dot, and... sunset-coloured eyes. She frowned, leaning closer in an effort to understand his frenzied rambling.

Shepard touched his arm, and tensed when he suddenly gripped her wrist. The sedative that Dr. Chakwas injected in her blood was still wreaking havoc on her reflexes. Her brain acted faster than her body, and she could only jerk when his grip on her wrist tightened. The sudden movement pushed the coffee mug off the table, its black contents drenching the padded floor.

Shepard wanted to yank his entire body over the small desk in an attempt to pull away, but her fingers barely twitched. She glanced at his face, relieved when he started to blink again. She didn't want to resort to anything too drastic. Like calling for help.

"Shepard," he exhaled, instantly recovered from his spell. "My apologies." Thane gazed at the wrist he still held, clamped between webbed fingers.

She snatched her hand away when his grip loosened. "What in the hell was _that?"_

He sighed. "Drell can easily lapse into... memories. It won't happen in your presence again, I assure you. We can discuss it more, at another time, if you wish. I have wasted too much of your time."

"Yes, we'll definitely talk more about it," Shepard glanced at the floor. "Sorry about your mug," she offered. She bent down to pick it up at the same time he did. Her bangs brushed against the tip of his collar as she touched the handle of the mug, and she inhaled the scent of leather before she could stop herself. She shoved the mug toward his out-stretched hand and immediately stood up, her legs wobbling slightly as the sedative's effects finally began to wear off. Or at least, she blamed her unsteadiness on the sedative. She nodded toward him, not really meeting his solemn gaze, and left the room.

She seemed to find out something new about their drell companion every day. And as she headed to the med-bay, she thought back to the way his lips had moved during the trance, when he had smiled slightly as he recalled those 'sunset coloured eyes.'

* * *

And that's the end!

Looks like Shepard forgot to feed her fish again.


End file.
